


dazed & confused

by compendiary



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama & Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:30:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 35,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19316359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compendiary/pseuds/compendiary
Summary: rookie detective mark lee is sent on an undercover mission to infiltrate Vision, an international crime organisation run by the infamous head of the mafia, wong yukhei. as mark gets closer to yukhei, the lines between what is right and wrong are blurred as he begins to question his own beliefs.“I don’t know about that…” Yukhei trails off, making a vague gesture with his hand. “Maybe if you begged me louder.”“I’m not begging you.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from [dazed & confused](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nel_hT0ZQHA) sung by ruel.

Ever since his first day at the police force, Mark could only think of one thing. He’s going to work his way up the ladder, get his detective badge, and when that day comes—he’s going to be one step closer to working with the best detective in the field, his idol Jung Jaehyun. He’s hellbent on working with the older detective because Jaehyun’s impeccable track record is one of Mark’s largest sources of inspiration, and the thought of working alongside Jaehyun helped him power through the gruelling past few years of being a uniformed officer.

Finally, Mark is here.

He’s finally a detective after putting in years of hard work, and he managed to secure a post in the same precinct as Jaehyun, no less. He hasn’t been this excited about anything ever since he realised he could eat Hot Cheetos with chopsticks to avoid staining his fingers, but he digresses. There’s just so much to look forward to now that he’s taking his first steps into the real world.

Except the world comes crumbling down the moment Mark arrives.

His captain, Taeyong, summons him first thing in the morning before Mark even has the chance to say hello to his colleagues. Taeyong looks friendly enough. He has a smile on his face when Mark walks in, and he gestures warmly for Mark to take a seat opposite him as he rests his hands on the desk, leaning forward as if Mark’s presence was something of great interest.

Mark doesn’t know what to say after he bows in greeting, making sure to bend his back as much as he can. He shyly takes the seat Taeyong pointed towards earlier, keeping his head low to avoid as much direct eye contact as possible.

“Minhyung,” Taeyong says, referring to Mark by his Korean name, not knowing that Mark hasn’t gone by that name for years now ever since he emigrated to Canada as a child. “I’m going to need you to resign.”

Mark immediately forgets his previous plan of not looking Taeyong in the eye. His head shoots up in one swift motion, so quickly he can swear he almost gives himself whiplash, and he stares at Taeyong. “What?” he asks, not bothering to mask his bewilderment. “Captain, I—”

Taeyong laughs lightly. “Calm down, Minhyung,” he says, shaking his head. “I have a better job for you than whatever it is you’ll be doing here. Something more hands-on. Something more practical for a talent like yourself.”

Mark opens his mouth to ask what, but he promptly shuts it afterwards, knowing better than to interrupt his superior.

“I’m sending you undercover.”

Mark internally screams. He hears all the alarms go off inside his head, knowing very well that this is akin to a death sentence. Detectives who go undercover for long periods of time sometimes don’t live to return to the force. It’s not the most glamorous of roles to play, and it’s certainly even worse when Mark hasn’t even gotten a proper taste of what it’s like to be a _real_ detective yet. Was Taeyong just buttering him up when he called Mark a “talent”?

“I can tell that you’re distressed,” Taeyong continues, reaching over to pat Mark on the shoulder. “I know this is a lot to consider on your first day itself, but this truly is an opportunity. You’re the best person for the job. I’ve been waiting for someone with credentials such as yours to pick this up, and I’ve finally found the right man for it.”

“I—”

Taeyong holds up a hand, effectively cutting Mark off. “Admittedly, this is a lot more than just your ordinary undercover mission. I’m having you go undercover to infiltrate Vision.”

 _Vision_. Mark pales when Taeyong utters the name.

Vision is arguably one of the most notorious crime organisations that is still currently active. It operates on a large scale, having hubs in China, South Korea, and Japan. Well, maybe Vision is important to Mark in more ways than one.

The fact that Vision’s organised crime activities extend beyond every other field of crime possible comes second to Mark’s personal intrigue with the gang itself. A few years ago, one of Mark’s close friends from university went missing, only for the rest of them to catch wind that his disappearance was linked to Vision. Mark still doesn’t know what exactly happened to Renjun, but this might be a good chance for him to find out.

He doesn’t want to take up the job, but does he really have a choice? Taeyong doesn’t look like he’s going to take no for an answer, and Mark’s torn because he also wants to learn the truth behind Renjun’s disappearance all those years ago.

Rumours said that Renjun was taken hostage because of his father’s large gambling debt, but the whole issue has yet to be solved because the police didn’t believe them when they reported Renjun as a missing person. There was nothing that Mark and his friends could do about it because Renjun was gone without a trace with no real inclination that he was truly taken by force.

“Minhyung,” Taeyong breaks Mark’s trail of thought. “Detective Lee.”

Mark sighs. This is probably the first and last time that he’s going to hear anyone call him “Detective Lee”. He worked this hard to get his detective badge all for what? To become a low-rank lackey in an organised crime gang? He curses his terrible luck. “Yes, Captain,” Mark responds, knowing very well how this conversation is going to end. He dreads it.

“If you need more time to think about it, I suggest that you—”

“No, I don’t,” Mark interjects, taking in how Taeyong looks slightly shocked at how forward Mark is being. “I’ll… I’ll do it.”

It takes a few seconds before a large grin spreads across Taeyong’s face, and he claps Mark over the back once more in satisfaction. “That’s great!” he exclaims, looking both relieved and proud at the same time. “I knew you were the right man for this, Minhyung. I’ll work this out personally with you right now.”

Mark holds back another sigh in favour of nodding obediently, pursing his lips after as he watches Taeyong rummage through his desk for a folder.

Mark hopes that he’s making the right decision.

 

* * *

 

It’s a complicated process having to shed his old identity and to assume a whole new one. But thankfully, it’s a little less daunting for Mark to pick up a different legal name—he’s going to be known as ‘Lee Mark’ from now on instead of the ‘Lee Minhyung’ he used to have printed on all his official documents. He’s been going by Mark for half his life by now, so it’s just the sight of his new _official_ name being plastered onto his identity card that throws him off slightly.

But moving cities is a whole other story.

He bids his friends a goodbye, unable to give them a proper explanation as to _why_ he just dropped his dream job. Jeno is puzzled and in disbelief when Mark tells him about his impending move and he continuously looks to Jaemin for some kind of explanation for Mark’s sudden change in behaviour.

Jaemin doesn’t seem to be able to reason Mark’s plans himself, only able to pat Jeno on the back lightly as they both forlornly watch as Mark packs up his belongings in their shared apartment. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” Jaemin asks, visibly concerned. “Mark, we’ve known you for years now. Are you sure this is really what you want?”

Mark doesn’t know what to say to that. His friends obviously know him just as well as he knows himself, and he can only imagine the chaos that will bloom the moment Donghyuck learns about his newfound plan—it’s incredibly sudden. Donghyuck’s probably going to give him the cold shoulder for a month for not consulting him beforehand. Mark exhales deeply, already drained from just thinking about it.

“Mark,” Jeno tries to speak as Mark continues throwing clothes into his suitcase haphazardly. “Is something wrong? You were just talking about working with Jaehyun last week and you were so excited you finally got your license. This isn’t like you—”

Mark shakes his head, groaning as he runs a hand through his hair. He looks up at two of his friends who have their gazes fixated on him, worry pouring through their eyes. “I’m just—” Mark takes in a deep breath, breathing out slowly after. “I just need some time to figure things out. Like… I reported to work on my first day and it wasn’t what I thought it would be. And with my dad’s _gije_ on the way… It’s just been too much.”

That’s not exactly a lie. Mark’s always been a wreck whenever it neared his father’s death anniversary. It’s not a day that he likes very much, but it’s been years since he was this affected by it. He knows that his friends will stop questioning him the moment the topic drifts into this one, though.

“Oh, Mark,” Jaemin immediately comes by his side, wrapping his long arms around Mark’s shoulders as Jeno does the same from the other side. “I don’t know what to say.”

Mark shuts his eyes tight, wondering if he’s doing the right thing by lying to his friends and using his father’s death as an excuse to cover up the true nature of his job—ugh, the only reason he chose this branch of career was because of his father anyway. He supposes his dad will understand. “Just give me some time,” Mark says quietly as he feels Jeno rub soothing circles into his back. “Give me some time to be by myself for a while. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Mark continues packing after that, not knowing if his words carry any weight of truth. He can’t confirm that this will go well, but he knows that the only way he can get anything done is if he leaves his old life behind until further notice. God knows that Jaemin and Jeno would freak out if they learnt about Mark’s actual plans.

 

Moving from Ulsan to Seoul is a real change in pace. The capital is larger than Mark remembers it to be, and so much busier. Mark tries to recall when the last time he stepped foot here was, but it’s to no avail. He relocated to Vancouver with his mother shortly after his father’s passing and he hasn’t really visited his hometown since.

It’s a place where most of his nightmares reside, so he’s never been too keen about coming back here.

He wonders if there’s actually a quiet place for an organisation like Vision to set up their headquarters, though. It seems like every corner of the city is occupied by one large building or another. Every other piece of property he lays his eyes on is either five-storeys tall or taller, and he wonders how far he’s going to have to commute to find the shady lair he’ll be working at for an indefinite amount of time.

To his surprise, however, Vision’s crime centre is _huge_.

It’s a multi-storey building situated in the centre of the city, literally sandwiched in the middle of a renown law firm and a large accounting firm. It looks like a legitimate business—“Vision Financial Advisors” is displayed in bold font on the building. Mark immediately feels underdressed when he steps into the place.

The receptionists are dressed in office attire, the pretty lady over the counter in a pencil skirt smiles up at Mark with red lips as she tells him to wait for a moment, and Mark briefly wonders if he’s come to the wrong place. This can’t really be the hub of Seoul’s largest crime organisation, can it?

Mark pulled on a denim jacket over a white t-shirt and a pair of black pants this morning and he truly feels out of place when he sees a young boy, definitely younger than Mark himself, come to whisk him upstairs to show him the place.

“I’m Chenle,” the boy introduces himself, sounding incredibly prim and proper for a low-rank lackey. “I’m not going to bother with formalities. You know what you’re getting yourself into, right?” Chenle even has a dress shirt on, but his blonde hair is slicked back and he has a box of cigarettes peeking out from his breast pocket.

Okay, he’s definitely an Asian gangster.

Mark blinks at Chenle a few times blankly, nodding after. “I mean… yeah?” he mutters, noting how unsure his own voice sounds even to himself. “I mean… _yeah_.”

Chenle studies Mark quizzically. “You’re not going to last one day in this line of work,” he mumbles lowly, and Mark wonders for a moment if Chenle is talking to him or just musing to himself. “You’re too weak.”

“Weak? Me?” Mark scoffs. “Look, kid. The only reason I’m here is because I know I’m destined for something more. You’re all lucky to even have me.”

There’s a pause as Chenle continues watching Mark wordlessly. His expressionless face immediately breaks into a grin after as he slaps Mark across the shoulder in a gesture of friendliness. “You’re feisty when you’re pressured,” he says, chuckling. “Mark, right? Xuxi _gē_ is going to _hate_ you.”

Mark doesn’t have time to ask Chenle what he means before he’s taken on a tour of the top floor where he’ll be tasked. Chenle doesn’t spare any time with reminding Mark that he’s at the bottom of the food chain, and he mentions time and time again for Mark to memorise tiny details regarding useless errands that he’s going to have to run on behalf of their boss.

If Chenle’s words are anything to go by, their boss—going by the name of Wong Yukhei, according to Taeyong—sounds like a sadistic old fucker who gets off on making his underlings struggle with their jobs. Chenle can practically recite all the dos and don’ts that Yukhei has laid out for his men off of the top of his head, but at the same time Chenle refers to Yukhei as “Xuxi _gē_ ” which sounds very affectionate to Mark’s untrained ear when it comes to the Chinese language.

It’s probably some sort of wicked hierarchy thing. “ _Gē_ ” probably means “Your Holiness” or something along that line. Ugh, Wong Yukhei already sounds like a prick.

Mark meets the rest of the team—no, _gang_ , really—throughout the day. There’s Kunhang, Dejun, and Yangyang, three starry-eyed henchmen who spare no time in asking for Mark to do simple things for them like make coffee and get their coats from the racks. There’s also the elusive Sicheng, who barely spares Mark more than a glance, and Mark spies the undeniable imprint of a pistol nestled underneath his blazer.

It becomes more believable that this legitimate-looking building is just a front for illegal business when Yangyang cracks open a window so he can light up a cigarette. He sets one of the fire alarms off with the smoke and yet he guffaws when the sirens ring, gesturing for Mark to hurry to turn them off.

Chenle offers Mark a shrug in response, nudging him towards the direction of the store room where the ladder is kept. “Don’t worry, they’ll clean up their act when Xuxi _gē_ gets back,” he says, laughing a bit as he looks over to where Kunhang is shouting at Yangyang for smoking in the building. “But handling Xuxi _gē_ probably won’t be any better, so I guess dealing with them is kind of like hazing for you.”

Mark sighs, rolling up the sleeves of his jacket. “Anything to be on top though, right?”

Chenle laughs. “Yeah, whatever, Mark. We’ll see if you can even _survive_ the boss. God knows that I barely did.”

 

* * *

 

Mark’s first week is all hustle and bustle. It’s nothing like what Mark thought he would have been doing, he’s actually more of an errand boy than an actual part of the gang. He can barely overhear what operations are ongoing from the pantry, and he’s only able to listen in on fragments of the conversations Dejun has with Sicheng, who has still spoken less than three words to Mark to date.

Sicheng seems to be one of the key players of Vision, always alternating between going in and out of the headquarters. He has the same steely look in his eyes the entire time and he doesn’t bother to utter any forms of apology whenever he shoves past Mark to leave out the door. He’s the most secretive of the bunch by a long shot, but Mark can’t find a way to break past that harsh exterior of his.

Did Mark really attend years of police academy, slave through years of uniformed police work only to be reduced to a measly runner for the mafia? No. But is this what Mark is doing right now? Sadly, yes.

Mark curses every decision he’s made to date that resulted in him landing this position.

Throughout the week, however, he learns a little bit more about how Vision operates under Wong Yukhei. Yukhei is supposedly ruthless and upholds a strict no-nonsense policy. He won’t hesitate to kick anyone to the curb should they dare to defy him, but underneath what Chenle refers to as “Xuxi _gē_ ’s shell of pretension”, Yukhei is said to be a pretty good guy. Mark has to hold in his disbelief to avoid from offending Chenle.

How great can the head of a crime organisation be?

Mark doesn’t know what to expect when he hears that Yukhei has finally returned after a week of negotiations with another gang in China—what for, he doesn’t know—but if he knows anything about himself, he knows that he didn’t expect Yukhei to look like _this_.

The name Wong Yukhei didn’t strike Mark as a name for a tall and suave _young_ man with a face that actually looks like it could rival a celebrity’s. This is surely a hoax. This can’t be the Wong Yukhei that’s spoken to be at the very top of Vision’s operations. This guy is definitely too young.

Yangyang scrambles out of his chair to greet Yukhei at the door, which confirms that this is in fact the infamous head of their gang.

Mark frantically looks to Chenle. “That’s Wong Yukhei?” he hisses under his breath, nudging Chenle harshly in the ribs. “You didn’t tell me that he wasn’t old!”

Chenle looks back at Mark, visibly confused. “Old? I call him _gē_ … He’s like… your age, I think,” Chenle replies, unimpressed with Mark’s assumptions. “Who said anything about Xuxi _gē_ being old? ‘ _Gē_ ’ literally means ‘older brother’.”

Mark looks back at the man currently walking through the doors to enter their office floor. Wong Yukhei is tall, towering over the rest of his men, and he’s dressed impeccably for a supposed gangster. He has a well-fitted suit on, albeit a tacky patterned one that wouldn’t look the least bit practical outside of a high-fashion runway show, but somehow he makes it work. Maybe it’s the modelesque proportions Yukhei somehow sports, or maybe it’s the fact that Yukhei has the looks that live up to his ridiculous choice of formal wear.

Yukhei’s face is small, framing a large pair of eyes that narrow slightly when they focus in on Mark standing in the corner of the room, and Yukhei has a thick pair of lips pressed into what Mark can only describe as a perpetual pout. His hair is gelled back, the locks combed off his face in thick strokes, probably from running his fingers through them this morning, and _God_ does Yukhei look every bit the stereotypical gangster the entertainment industry loves to portray in films.

Except Yukhei is infinitely better looking than what Mark expected him to look like, and Mark notes that Yukhei might actually be the second-best looking person he has ever seen to date. Mark quickly picks his jaw up from the ground when he realises that Yukhei’s stopped in his tracks to study him.

“Who the fuck is that?” Yukhei asks, pointing a long finger in Mark’s direction, his eyes narrowing further. His voice is low and if Mark weren’t already used to being spoken to in that tone by his superiors in law enforcement, he’d probably be shrinking under it.

But Mark’s a lot stronger than anyone else he knows, so he keeps his head held high. “I’m Lee Mark,” he says, just as one of the men standing beside Yukhei opens his mouth to speak. “Boss,” he adds, as an afterthought.

Yukhei looks surprised to hear Mark speak up for himself. “Excuse me?”

“He’s a new runner,” the man to Yukhei’s right quickly quips up, shaking his head in Mark’s direction, conveying his request for Mark to shut up. “Not someone worth your time. Let’s go, Xuxi, we’ve got more important shit to discuss.”

Yukhei clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth before tearing his eyes away from Mark and walking straight into his private office at the end of the floor. “Get the runner to buy me some cigarettes,” Yukhei says, not addressing Mark directly.

The man on his right makes eye contact with Mark once more before gesturing with his head for Mark to get going, mouthing “ _Huáng Hè Lóu_ ” to remind Mark of the specific brand of cigarettes Yukhei smokes. He looks kind enough, sparing Mark one last glance before following Yukhei into the room.

“That’s Kun _gē_ ,” Chenle supplies, taking in Mark’s cluelessness. “And I’d start running if I were you.”

Mark raises an eyebrow at that. “Really?” he asks, breathing out through his nose with mirth.

“Really.”

 

It so happens that Yukhei’s specific brand of cigarettes is something of a novelty here in South Korea. There’s literally one shop in the whole of the city that sells it, and the shop happens to be all the way at the other end of town. Not only that, but the price for a pack of 20 is absolutely ridiculous, ringing in at over $50 a carton and they’re only sold in sets of four.

Mark buys a box of four cartons and charges it all to the credit card Kunhang passed to him on his first day there, rolling his eyes in annoyance when he realises that it’s been three hours since he left the office this morning. The ride to the shop took over an hour, and he’s only halfway through his ride back now. This is more challenging than police work.

When Mark arrives back at the office, cigarettes in hand, he steps into the place only to catch Yukhei about to leave with his men in tow. “Your cigarettes… boss,” Mark quickly says, holding the large box over to him. He kind of hates having to refer to a criminal like Yukhei as his boss.

Yukhei looks down at Mark, studying the box in his hands, but he only nods for one of his men to take it from Mark. “What took you so long?” he questions, bored. “I closed five deals while you were out galavanting in the streets.”

“Your cigarettes are only sold at a shop on the other side of the city,” Mark retorts, biting on his bottom lip when he realises that he technically just snapped at Yukhei, a man who has the very ability to probably end his life. His gaze that was previously aimed defiantly at Yukhei drops to look down at the floor.

Yukhei crooks a finger forwards, pushing Mark’s head up by the chin as he inspects his face. Yukhei’s studying Mark’s face curiously, the look in his large eyes hardened. It’s not difficult to believe that Yukhei is as powerful as word on the streets has it when he’s looking at Mark like _that_. “And you only thought to buy one box?” Yukhei asks, drawing his hand back after. “Pathetic.”

Mark bites back the urge to snap at him. “Sorry,” he mutters halfheartedly, shrugging.

Yukhei rolls his eyes at him. “Whatever.” And with that, Yukhei’s off with four men following right behind him.

When Yukhei’s out the door, Yangyang whistles from his seat, sliding his swivel chair over to Mark. “Holy shit,” he exclaims, punching Mark in the shoulder. “You just sassed him and survived!”

“Don’t worry about it, Mark,” Chenle pipes up, playing with a penknife between his fingers as he leans against a wall. “He’ll warm up to you. You’ll love Xuxi _gē_ once you get to know him better.”

“Oh, for sure,” Mark sarcastically remarks, collapsing into an unoccupied chair.

“Can you get me a coffee, Mark?” Dejun calls from halfway across the room where he has his legs propped up on the desk and a phone pressed tightly to his ear. “Black, no sugar.”

Mark groans, poking Chenle with a foot. “Can you do it, man?”

Chenle sighs. “Only because you’ve taken over cigarette run duties,” he mumbles, turning towards the pantry like the good kid he is. “But you really should’ve gotten more of the smokes. Xuxi _gē_ goes through them faster than you can breathe.”

 

* * *

 

Mark’s routine afterwards morphs into something between a cross of an errand boy and a member of the cleaning staff. Yukhei orders him around to finish up trivial tasks in the office, but never talks to him directly. Yangyang is usually passed the baton of telling Mark what to do, echoing Yukhei’s demands for Mark to buy cigarettes, get wine, and even to go collect ginseng from an herbalist in a hole-in-the-wall medicinal shop located in a rural area of town.

After that it’s “clean this” and “clean that” or “make coffee”.

Mark soon realises that he really is at the bottom of the food chain here in Vision. Did Taeyong set him up for this to torture him? He hasn’t learnt anything about the way the gang operates because all he does is run around and clean. He doesn’t have the time to snoop around or listen in on any of their conversations.

Mark realises that Chenle’s words were unadulterated nonsense when Yukhei doesn’t warm up to him even after two weeks of treating him like the shit under his boot. Mark’s not going to be able to get anything done like this. His weekly reports to Taeyong have been unfruitful, to say the least, but Taeyong doesn’t seem surprised that Mark hasn’t made any real progress yet.

“These things take time,” Taeyong had said reassuringly over the phone. “I trust that you’re adjusting to your new life well.”

“I guess,” Mark replied, knowing very well that it wasn’t the entire truth.

Well, Mark’s going to have to suck it up. He took up the job and he’s not going down without a fight. Yukhei can look at him like he’s the equivalent of trash for all he cares, but Mark’s going to work to gain the trust of those around him and soon Yukhei won’t be able to disregard him any longer.

Kun is something like Yukhei’s right-hand man, and his personality is almost too warm for Mark to even process the fact that he’s technically about as influential as Yukhei himself in the underground business. Kun looks like a legitimate businessman, his features are softer than the others’ and his demeanour a lot more welcoming. He doesn’t talk down to Mark, unlike Yukhei does, and he actually tacks on a “thank you” whenever Mark brings him his coffee in the morning.

This whole life is starting to become the norm for Mark, which is somewhat worrying. Mark’s stopped questioning _why_ he’s worked like a dog in the headquarters of a crime organisation in favour of questioning _how_ he can ensure that he can continue working here. It’ll be a waste of effort if he were to be fired now. Two exhausting weeks of his life down the drain.

He’ll have to play his cards right to ensure that Yukhei doesn’t continuously find fault in him in fear that it might sabotage his mission, but everything he does seems to rub Yukhei the wrong way.

 

It’s one morning when Mark is tidying up Yukhei’s pigsty of an office when Yukhei walks in. Mark was previously collecting the used cigarette butts off the table (disgusting), throwing the finished cans of beer into a large rubbish bag (disgusting), and trying to read whatever is written on some of the documents strewn across the surface of Yukhei’s desk (kind of interesting).

Yukhei doesn’t spare him a second glance, brushing past him haughtily to settle himself into his large swivel chair behind his desk. He’s in a white suit this morning with black floral detailing—something that would look absolutely gaudy if he didn’t look like _that_ —and Mark reminds himself not to stare too long at the expanse of skin shown right at the top of Yukhei’s chest where his dress shirt is unbuttoned.

Mark internally groans. Gangsters aren’t supposed to look _hot_. Okay, to be fair, all the guys in this God forsaken gang would be considered good looking, but Yukhei… Yukhei is kind of on a whole other level. It’s probably because he’s the _head_ of the fucking mafia in his mid-twenties when this is usually a feat only achievable by a man after decades upon decades in the industry.

“The industry”—is Mark even listening to himself? When did crime activity become part of an industry?

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to make me a cup of coffee?” Yukhei deadpans, looking pointedly at where Mark has been standing rooted in the middle of his office. He has thick chunky rings worn around his fingers this morning and Mark watches as he snaps his fingers, asking for one of his men to bring him a folder.

Mark lets his mouth fall open into an ‘O’ as he tries to formulate an intelligent response to no avail. “Oh, sorry,” Mark quickly apologises, pursing his lips. “I was just lost in thought.”

“Did I ask?”

Mark pushes every curse word he knows to the back of his mind, instead choosing to smile sweetly at Yukhei with no real emotion behind his facial expression. “No, I guess not,” Mark replies. “One black coffee coming right up, boss.”

Mark reminds himself not to spit into Yukhei’s coffee cup as he watches the coffee machine drip espresso into the pitch black mug. Yukhei can be such a pain in the ass sometimes, and by sometimes Mark means _all of the time_. There hasn’t been one instance so far of Yukhei showing any humane decency to him, and Mark’s getting tired of waiting for Yukhei to start seeing him as a talent.

Mark brings the coffee to Yukhei, carefully placing the mug away from the papers he currently has spread across his table.

“I wanted iced coffee,” Yukhei states, turning in his chair to stare up at Mark, his eyes looking about as dead as his insides.

“Did you say you wanted iced coffee?”

Yukhei raises an eyebrow, the sides of his lips curving downwards into a frown. “Are you talking back to me, little boy?”

Little boy. _Little boy_. Mark ignores the rage slowly igniting in the pits of his stomach, plastering on the fakest smile he can as he picks the mug back up. “I’ll put some ice in this immediately,” he grits out from between his teeth.

“I want a fresh cup.”

“I’ll make you a new one right now.”

Yukhei smirks in response. “That’s what I thought,” he says, motioning for Kunhang to light the cigarette held between his fingers. “Good boy.”

Mark rolls his eyes the moment he steps out of Yukhei’s office, holding in the anger he feels overtaking his person. He has to be calm. He can’t let his emotions get the best of him now—he’s bigger than his feelings. He’s not going to let a guy who wears suit jackets with rose patterns on them affect his self-esteem.

In Mark’s blind fury (that he’s desperately trying to contain), he accidentally tips over the steaming mug of coffee that he left on the edge of the sink while he sets up the coffee machine to brew a new cup. He hastily reaches for the mug, conveniently forgetting about the hot contents within, and half the cup empties itself over one of his hands as he rights it.

“Fuck,” Mark mutters under his breath, quickly putting his hand under running water as he watches the skin redden and throb. It’s not particularly painful—he’s endured worse pain in his life—but it annoys him that he hurt his dominant hand because the burned spot is definitely going to be tender for the next couple of days.

He eventually finishes making a fresh cup of iced Americano, and he pulls down the sleeves of his sweater to hide the reddening mark on the back of his right hand. By the time he reenters Yukhei’s room, the other guys have already dispersed, leaving Yukhei to study whatever documents are laid out in front of him.

Yukhei snatches the mug from between Mark’s fingers, looking unimpressed that Mark decided to serve him his iced coffee in a mug instead of one of the tall glasses they have in the pantry. “Where’s my straw?” he asks.

Mark wants to strangle himself to end his misery. He makes his way to the pantry once more, snatching up one of the metal straws that Kun insisted they use in interest of the environment before stomping back into Yukhei’s office. He holds it out to Yukhei. “Anything else?”

Yukhei looks at the straw being given to him, then his eyes fixate on the raw spot on Mark’s hand. “Did you burn yourself, little boy?”

Mark immediately flushes, sticking the straw into the mug and pulling his sleeves lower. “No.”

“You’re hopeless,” Yukhei scolds, dismissing Mark with his hand. “Go.”

Mark is about to move towards the door, but Yukhei clears his throat loudly, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Go sit on the sofa.”

Mark turns, raising an eyebrow. He watches as Yukhei’s finger moves towards the intercom button to call for Chenle. “What?” Mark dumbly mumbles.

“Sit on the sofa,” Yukhei repeats. “Lele, bring the first-aid kit.”

Chenle responds quickly with a “Yes, Xuxi _gē_!” He fetches the first-aid kit in record time, practically teleporting to Mark’s side when Yukhei orders for him to nurse Mark’s hand. “How’d you get this burn?” Chenle asks, confused. Chenle’s skills in first-aid are sloppy, and he makes Mark wince more than once as he applies antiseptic ointment over the burn.

“Is this really necessary?” Mark says quietly, noting how Yukhei’s not paying them any attention as he continues working at his desk. “Ouch!”

Chenle’s fingers presses onto the area with a little too much force, making Mark yelp in surprise again. “Oops, sorry.”

Yukhei sighs, standing up and walking over to watch them. “Lele, scram,” he says to the Chinese boy, shooing him away.

“But I’m not done—”

“I’ll do it.”

Chenle knows better than to question Yukhei, so he shrugs and leaves after giving Mark a look.

“Uh… this really isn’t necessary,” Mark awkwardly says as Yukhei takes Chenle’s spot on the sofa, rummaging through the first-aid kit for whatever it is that he’s looking for. “This is literally the most superficial burn someone could get.”

“Shut up,” Yukhei snaps, pulling out a roll of breathable cloth bandages that he proceeds to wrap around Mark’s hand.

“I don’t think you need—”

Yukhei glares at him again and Mark quickly shuts his mouth. Yukhei continues wrapping the bandage around Mark’s hand and eventually secures it with expert technique. It seems like he’s worked with bandages before. He packs up as quickly as he finishes off the job, and he pushes the first-aid kit Mark’s way as he stands up ceremoniously. “Give it back to Chenle,” he tells Mark, making his way back to his desk.

“Cool… thanks?”

Yukhei doesn’t bother saying anything to him as he picks up his phone and waves Mark away.

Mark blinks rapidly as he picks the first-aid kit up and brings it with him as he leaves the office. He doesn’t know what to say to Chenle when he passes it to him for safekeeping, and he only scratches his head as he wonders if he should take off the bandages because he’s read about burns and compartment syndrome. “Is he actually for real?” Mark asks Chenle, not caring if Chenle actually understands his question.

“He’s a pretty warm guy once you get to know him, right?” Chenle enthuses, clearly misreading the situation.

Mark grimaces, walking away without answering him.

 

* * *

 

Mark’s days continue to pass just as the ones before—running trivial errands, trying to stay out of Yukhei’s hair while he attempts to milk information from the other guys, rinse and repeat. It’s not the most exciting of jobs, but he’s come to learn that all of the men working under Yukhei have a strong sense of loyalty towards him and would never consider badmouthing their boss.

It’s both terrifying and admirable how much the men in Vision love Yukhei.

And there is emphasis on the use of the word _love_ , because even Yangyang who always seems to draw the shorter end of the stick when it comes to Yukhei’s temper mentioned offhandedly about how much he “loves Xuxi _gē_ ” for gifting him a bejewelled lighter that he’s oftentimes seen playing with between his fingers. It was a gift from Yukhei for his 25th birthday and he’s treasured it since. Yangyang constantly has the lighter close by and Mark once suspected that it was because he had pyromania (which might not be totally out of the question—Yangyang does have a penchant for lighting random things on fire in the office).

Yukhei is still as aloof and far away as the first time Mark met him. Mark’s yet to build any sort of substantial rapport with his new boss because Yukhei seems to hold him at an arm’s length, but it’s probably because Mark’s of no use to him whatsoever yet. The other guys have set jobs and goals that they have to achieve after Yukhei delegates their tasks to them, but Mark’s job scope is severely detached from the illegal crime organisation that they’re running.

Mark wonders if he’d actually be considered complicit if there were to be a crackdown here now. Would he even qualify to be arrested?

He feels incredibly pathetic.

The only time Mark has seen Yukhei smile—a proper wide grin that showed his impossibly straight rows of teeth—he had incidentally glanced in the direction of the glass panels looking into Yukhei’s office. Yukhei was laughing at something Kunhang said, which Mark still has no knowledge about, however when Yukhei met eyes with Mark who was standing not too far from his line of sight, he smile immediately dissipated and his expression returned to its usual stoniness.

Even poor Kunhang had to suffer the consequences of Mark’s dreadful choice of time and place of appearance because Yukhei took a file and smacked Kunhang across the head with it. The sound resonated from within the office, but Kunhang half-laughed and half-grimaced as Yukhei ordered for him to get out.

Anyway, that was almost a week ago, and Mark hasn’t had much contact with Yukhei since.

Mark does wonder why Yukhei’s associates still take his shit like this, though. It’s not like Yukhei is much older than they are—he actually looks about Kunhang’s age—and it’s not like Yukhei’s 15 feet tall or anything. Sure, Yukhei is taller than the rest of them, but his title as their “boss” is still no reason for them to continuously accept these forms of mistreatment as if it’s something natural.

Mark really doesn’t understand the logic behind Asian mafia gangs.

He’s long since given up gaining insight as to how the hierarchy system in Vision works. Yukhei seems to be the top dog at the place but at the same time, he seems to really take Kun’s opinion into account. Dejun, Kunhang, and Yangyang seem to rank about the same—a little higher than Chenle—but somehow they always fight over who gets to do the dirty work and who matters more. Arguments along that line don’t usually end very well because Sicheng, who ultimately is the wildcard here, will spontaneously materialise alongside them to put them back into their places, reminding them that they’re worth less than a corn chip.

Mark has trouble holding back his laughter every time Sicheng speaks to anyone in that manner because it plays out like a horribly written script from a sitcom. Seeing Dejun’s thick eyebrows knit together in frustration doesn’t hurt, either.

That’ll show him for telling Mark to make him coffee every five seconds.

Mark doesn’t get any closer to unravelling the secrets behind the organisation until one day. Chenle is leaning against the doorframe as Mark wipes down the ashtray from Yukhei’s office.

“Mark,” Chenle quietly says, and he sounds a little bit nervous.

“Huh?” Mark responds, setting the kitchen towel aside when he’s fully dried the ceramic ashtray in his hands. “Do you need something?”

Chenle scratches behind his head, looking a bit sheepish as he continues speaking. “Xuxi _gē_ wants you to bring the ginseng to his office… you know, the expensive one Kun _gē_ got you to pick up the other day.” Chenle makes vague gestures with his hands as he stands up straighter. “I think it came in a really shiny gold box.”

“I know the one.”

“Yeah, just bring it to him.”

Mark raises an eyebrow at Chenle, knowing that there’s more to this conversation than meets the eye. When Chenle doesn’t say anything else, Mark only blinks owlishly as he shuffles past him to pick out the box of ginseng from a cupboard. “Does he want me to bring it to him?” Mark asks, ashtray in one hand and box in another.

Chenle nods. “Please.”

Mark only purses his lips as he saunters over in the direction of the glass panels to Yukhei’s office. Kun and Sicheng are seated opposite Yukhei at his desk, and the three of them look up simultaneously when Mark nudges the glass door open with his hip.

Sicheng was in the middle of saying something when Mark came in, so he pauses momentarily before Kun gives him a gentle nod to continue. “As I was saying, I was talking with Ten and Yuta and they’re eager about it. A little too eager, if you ask me.”

“Yuta might be eager for more reasons than one,” Kun says, and Mark supposes that it’s a joke because Yukhei snorts in response as Sicheng rolls his eyes.

“Mark,” Yukhei finally speaks up, beckoning Mark over with his fingers. “Come here for a second.”

Mark feels like an intruder when he steps forward, placing the ashtray gently onto the desk as he holds out the box of ginseng to Yukhei. “Chenle said you asked for this,” he deadpans, watching as Yukhei considers if he should take the box from his hands.

“Will it kill you to move your hands yourself sometimes?” Sicheng mutters, huffing after. “Just leave it on the table, Mark. His Highness can’t lift a finger to do anything himself these days.”

Mark does as he’s told and he watches as Yukhei’s line of sight follows the box.

Yukhei stares at the ginseng contemplatively for a few more seconds before he hums to himself. “Kun _gē_ ,”—Mark never noticed that Yukhei addressed Kun with formality, Kun must be _very_ important in this case—“When are we meeting Mr. Li?”

Both Kun and Sicheng look slightly surprised that Yukhei would ask something like that, but Mark doesn’t know why. “Tomorrow,” Kun supplies helpfully, his expression unreadable. “You’re not planning to bring Mark with us, are you?”

Mark feels a slight spike in adrenaline when he hears that. He looks towards Yukhei expectantly.

Yukhei looks up to meet his eyes and there’s a flicker of something mischievous in them. He smirks. “Why not?” he laughs, his gaze never leaving Mark. “I bet we’ll find some use for such a healthy young thing.”

Mark shrugs. “It’ll be nice to finally be able to leave this place,” he admits, loud enough only for Yukhei to hear.

Yukhei’s smirk grows wider at that. “Perfect.”

“Let’s go back to discussing proper business,” Kun interjects, leaning forward to pat Sicheng’s thigh. “You know the mode of operation?”

Sicheng nods. “I _created_ the mode of operation.”

Kun leans back and laughs. “Great, then we’re set.”

 

* * *

 

“Cocaine,” is the first thing Mark hears come out of Mr. Li’s mouth.

It’s been less than five minutes since their arrival at this Chinese restaurant specialising in Sichuan delicacies. Mark could smell the scent of the spicy peppers wafting through every room they walked past to get to the one that they’re in right now. The spices sting his nostrils, threatening to burn off the fragile hairs from every part of his body.

Yukhei looks at ease, strolling through the hallway with an air of arrogance to him as his men follow behind him.

Mark is walking alongside Dejun, who wasn’t Yukhei’s first choice for the job—he initially called for Kunhang, but the latter had prior commitments with Yangyang and wasn’t available for the day—and Chenle, who looks pensive about this whole meeting. Mark still doesn’t understand the purpose of them coming all the way here just to meet this one Mr. Li, but he doesn’t bother asking. He’ll find out soon enough.

He does find out immediately, since Mr. Li announced the purpose of the meeting straight off the bat.

Yukhei’s barely seated into the chair at a 45° angle from Mr. Li’s around the circular dining table when he halts his movements to laugh. It’s an icy, emotionless sound that Mark’s never truly heard come from him before.

Mr. Li is a middle-aged Chinese man with thick-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. There’s another man seated next to him, looking about 50 years old himself, and they both have their chopsticks in their hands as they continue picking at the spread of food in front of them. “We’ll be discussing a large shipment of cocaine arriving this month, but first, eat,” Mr. Li says to Yukhei.

A waiter brings over a steaming bowl of white rice immediately, placing it in front of Yukhei.

Yukhei doesn’t touch his chopsticks. “I’d rather not,” Yukhei says, leaning back into his seat and crossing his legs. He takes his cigarette box out of the breast pocket of his blazer and sticks a cigarette between his teeth. The box is passed to Kun who’s standing protectively beside him.

Mark wants to whisper to Chenle, but their position standing behind Yukhei leaves them in open view of Mr. Li and co.

Dejun instinctively steps forward with a lighter, flickering the small flame close to the end of Yukhei’s cigarette to light it. He steps back with a pleased look when the cigarette catches light in one try.

Yukhei draws the cigarette from between his lips gently, puffing out perfect rings of smoke. “You were talking about cocaine,” Yukhei states, sounding bored. “And how much cocaine are we talking about?”

“Loads,” Mr. Li replies, not bothered by the stench of smoke being introduced into their private room. He grabs a large shrimp by his chopsticks. “Several shipping containers full.”

“I’m sure you won’t be smuggling cocaine into the country in plain sight.”

“They’re coming in from Bangkok on a cargo ship. I believe that it’s mangosteen season.” Mr. Li waves his chopsticks around lightly as he chews, deep in thought. “I think the boy… Ten, was it? Ten’s working for you in Thailand, no?”

Yukhei shrugs. “What did Ten say?”

“Never mind what Ten said,” Mr. Li dismisses the topic. “All I need is for you to get to arranging for the arrival of the goods. Ten should be able to handle the port in Bangkok.”

Yukhei doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t ask for more details to Mark’s dismay.

Mark was hoping to get enough information to rat this operation out to Taeyong, but it seems like he’s going to only have fragments to piece together for now. He’s going to have to commit everything that he’s hearing now to memory.

“Mark,” Yukhei calls after a moment of silence, not looking back to see if Mark is moving.

Mark is nudged forwards by Dejun who conveys the urgency of Yukhei’s call with his eyes. “Yes, boss?” Mark asks, his gaze flitting from the back of Yukhei’s head to Kun’s cool expression.

“Pass Mr. Li the gift we brought him,” Yukhei says as a matter of fact and he goes back to talking to Mr. Li after. “We brought you something to help you help us. It’s nothing much, but I heard it’s something you have an interest in collecting.”

What gift? Mark didn’t know that they brought gifts over. Is Yukhei trying to tell Mark to despatch this man right now? Is that what he means by a ‘gift’? The questions flooding Mark’s mind are answered when Chenle pushes the familiar gold box of ginseng into Mark’s hands. Mark’s eyes widen.

“Go on,” Chenle whispers.

Mr. Li is looking up at Mark with interest when Mark approaches him with the box, holding it out to him with both hands.

Mark makes sure to keep his head bowed and he takes in the shiny leather shoes that the older man is wearing.

“I didn’t take it that you recruited fresh meat of this caliber,” Mr. Li comments, his fingers lingering against Mark’s own for a longer period than necessary. This makes Mark flinch and look up at him with a poorly disguised expression of disgust on his face. “He’s a lot shorter than your usual men. A pretty boy. Or is that how you like your men over at Vision?”

Mark whips his head over to take in the other guys’ reactions. Dejun has his lips curled into a snarl, clearly offended as he’s somewhere around Mark’s height. The other men, however, don’t look surprised at how Mr. Li is looking Mark up and down right in front of them.

Is that why Yukhei invited Mark to come along—to be bait for this sleazy old man that they’re trying to do business with? That’s low even for him.

Mark doesn’t get the opportunity to sneer at Mr. Li as Yukhei speaks up on his behalf.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept your hands off my property,” Yukhei says, quirking a finger to tell Mark to come back to his side of the table. “Just take what I give you and leave what’s mine alone.”

Mark wants to interrupt and say that he’s _not_ Yukhei’s property, but he doesn’t. He knows better than to let his pride come first in matters like this. He only exhales evenly through his nose as he makes his way behind Yukhei once more. He feels Chenle nudge him in solidarity with his foot.

“What? I can’t question your choices in lackeys now?” Mr. Li laments. “I don’t think your father would be pleased to hear that his son’s out here burning bridges over a simple comment like that. You’re already doing the Wong name more harm than good nowadays.”

“It doesn’t matter if the men I choose to work for me are not up to your standards,” Yukhei retorts, his glare intensifying. “For all you know you might have just ruined a potential partnership by laying your hands on what’s _mine_.”

The word ‘mine’ rolls off Yukhei’s tongue with practiced precision. He’s probably been saying this for the entirety of his life because what he wants, he gets. Any and everything can be his at the snap of his fingers. Mark shudders as he thinks about it. He’s slightly irritated that his person has been reduced to something that’s classified under Yukhei’s property, but what can he do?

If Yukhei says he owns him, he probably does.

 

The meeting ends abruptly when Yukhei stands up from his seat. The legs of the antique wooden chair scrape along the parqueted flooring as he moves. He doesn’t say as much as a goodbye to his business associates, instead instructing Kun to do so by taking his leave first.

Yukhei looks back just as Dejun pushes open the sliding door for him. He sighs and beckons Mark to follow him with his finger—he’s been doing that a lot recently.

Mark notes that most of the men are staying with Kun as he continues whatever discussion he has to. Yukhei picked Mark to follow him… that’s certainly a step up from being a simple errand boy. He tails Yukhei closely, only half-aware of the tense atmosphere surrounding them as they make their way to the SUV parked outside.

Dejun gets into the driver’s seat and Yukhei in the back seat. Mark is about to slip into the passenger’s side when Yukhei grunts to get his attention, motioning for him to take the seat beside him after.

Although he’s confused, Mark complies.

“Are you okay?” Yukhei asks as Dejun smoothly pulls out of the parking spot. He’s looking out the window as Mark peers at him curiously, but he turns to glance at Mark when he doesn’t get a response after a few seconds. “I said—are you okay?”

Mark blinks quickly. “You were asking me?”

“Who else would I be talking to?”

“Uh… I’m fine. Why are you asking?”

Yukhei sighs, lifting a hand to rub it across his face only to decide against it at the last moment. He pinches the top of his nose bridge instead. “I saw how that old fucker touched you,” he replies, evidently frustrated that something like that happened in front of his eyes. “I can’t believe he dared to touch what’s mine.”

Mark makes a conscious effort to ignore how Yukhei just referred to him as his property again. “Oh,” he mutters, speechless because he didn’t expect Yukhei to show him any sign of humanity.

It’s a breath of fresh air to see Yukhei express any sort of human emotion, especially when it comes to expressing it in front of Mark. Mark’s seen Yukhei goof around and laugh with the other guys but never in front of him.

“I’m okay,” Mark says after a while. “Thanks for your concern.”

Yukhei snorts. “I’m not concerned,” he replies, turning to look out the window once more. The lampposts at the side of the road pass them rapidly as Dejun accelerates the car.

Mark shrugs. “Okay then,” he mumbles, angling his body away from Yukhei’s so that he’s facing the window too.

Two can play at this game if he wants to.

 

Taeyong doesn’t sound impressed when Mark delivers the news of Vision’s potential partnership with this Mr. Li. In fact, Taeyong is anything but impressed. He sounds bored, even, evidenced by how he yawns audibly over the phone call they are current engaged in. “Okay…” Taeyong drawls out after Mark’s done delivering his report for the week. “Did you hear anything else?”

Mark is taken aback, to say the least. He thought that having such a key piece of information would be useful to Taeyong in taking down one of Vision’s operations. No other force has ever led a successful infiltration of any of Vision’s activities to date. “No, sir, just this,” Mark admits, slightly disappointed that he didn’t manage to impress his direct boss. “I’ll work harder.”

“No, Minhyung, it’s not your fault,” Taeyong assures him, sighing softly after. “But you’re there personally. You’ve seen how legitimate Vision looks as a business from the outside. How well they conceal any illegal activity that’s ongoing… Wong Yukhei is no easy foe.”

Mark nods before remembering that Taeyong cannot see him. He clears his throat. “I do.”

“And that’s precisely why we need something bigger than just drug smuggling to take them down as a whole. Especially Wong… he’s not easy to pin down for any crimes because he doesn’t seem to do anything himself. The jobs are always distributed to others in one way or another. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Dong Sicheng is in charge of most of the field work,” Mark says. “I’ve tried looking into him but there’s not much to learn about him. All I managed to gather is that he hails from Wenzhou and that he has a background in Chinese martial arts.”

Taeyong hums lowly. “That’s a start. Maybe you could try getting closer to this Sicheng fellow.”

“He’s very secretive. It’s difficult to get him to talk privately.”

“Ask around for more information. Find the weakest link and try to piece together how we can break apart Vision from the inside.”

“Noted.”

There’s a few seconds of silence before Taeyong speaks up once more, this time with a suggestion that seems to harbour an implicit meaning. “This is going to sound a little bit… _different_ ,” he starts, and he only continues after Mark hums an affirmative to let him know that he’s following. “But gaining Yukhei’s trust is the key to unravelling Vision, and it’s not uncommon for undercover agents to use any means possible.”

Mark’s jaw drops slightly. There’s definitely a deeper meaning to what Taeyong is telling him right now. “Noted, sir,” Mark replies, unsure of how else to respond to this piece of information. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Taeyong sighs. “Okay, that will be it for now. Let me know if there are any new developments,” he instructs. “And stay safe, Minhyung. You don’t know who you’re hanging around with.”

 

* * *

 

Mark’s job scope begins to involve direct relations with Yukhei shortly after that unpleasant meeting with Mr. Li. He becomes something like Yukhei’s personal assistant in the next few weeks, except he doesn’t exactly have an entire breakdown of Yukhei’s schedule and the details of the events. Mark just sort of exists. He follows Yukhei around when he’s called to and he runs the errands Yukhei tells him to.

It’s given him a larger perspective of what goes on around the headquarters of Vision, and in the Dejun-Kunhang-Yangyang debacle, it appears that Kunhang stands on top. Mark’s not about to involve himself in the hierarchical argument the three of them still regularly have, but through his passive observation he’s noticed that Kunhang seems to hold the most responsibility.

In other words, Yukhei seems to trust Kunhang just a slight bit more than he does the other two. Mark’s tried to listen in on Yukhei’s conversations with Kunhang to no avail on most occasions because they communicate in what sounds vaguely like Mandarin but at the same time completely foreign to Mark’s ears. Chenle tells him that it’s Cantonese one day, and that Kunhang and Yukhei are the only two who speak it fluently so it’s used as their own secret code.

Yukhei’s not as cold or fierce as Mark first noted. He has a side to him that proves he’s a living, breathing human being—he cracks jokes, as bad and tasteless as they are, and whenever he smiles wide enough Mark can see that he has a singular dimple on his right cheek and that his incisors are slightly larger than the rest of his teeth. Mark would even go out on a limb and describe that side of Yukhei as _cute_ , but probably not out loud, of course.

Sometimes Yukhei is almost unbelievably gentle with Mark—those occasions cause a glitch in Mark’s matrix because _why_ —he tells Mark to take a breather whenever he sees that he’s out of breath from running from one corner of the office to the other doing favours for the other guys, or he lets Mark take a seat opposite him while he’s doing his work so Mark doesn’t have to stand idly behind him. But he still doesn’t say thanks whenever Mark brings him his coffee in the morning and he’s still adamant that Mark does his cigarette runs for him in a timely manner, so it’s not all a win for Mark.

Mark doesn’t know why Yukhei wants that many boxes of cigarettes anyway because it’s not like he fully smokes every cigarette he lights up. Yukhei takes one puff, sometimes two, before pressing the butt straight into his ashtray and leaving most of it unused. It’s a wasteful practice but he seems to take solace in just taking one or two drags from his expensive smokes.

“Shorty,” Yukhei calls one day, leaning back into his large swivel chair. He lifts his long legs up, propping his feet onto the edge of his office desk. He calls Mark anything he likes these days and it irks the undercover detective but he can’t talk back.

Mark looks up from where he’s seated on the couch facing Yukhei’s work area. “What?” he asks, setting his phone aside. He was looking up information regarding the shipment and this elusive Mr. Li but he’s still drawing a blank.

Yukhei’s scowl on his face is replaced by a small tilt upwards at the edge of his lips. “Where did you go to school?”

This question catches Mark off guard. He wasn’t given such a detailed backstory for himself—he didn’t think that he’d have to tell Yukhei where he attended school as a _child_ , so he doesn’t have a safe answer. He internally panics.

“Did you go to Yongsan?”

Fuck, Yukhei hit the nail on the head with that one. Mark attended that high school briefly before transferring later in the year, but how the fuck would Yukhei know that? Mark shuts his eyes tight. _His cover’s been blown._ He’s going to die here today.

Yukhei laughs and it’s a small, amused sound that makes Mark crack open his eyes to look at him. He doesn’t look like he’s going to kill Mark, though. “Why? Were you trying to keep that a secret from me?” Yukhei teases, the smile on his face growing wider. “Why do you look scared?”

Mark wets his lips with his tongue. “I was only there for a while… I didn’t finish high school there. How did you—” Mark snaps his mouth shut, trying to word his follow-up question in a less guilty way. “What gave it away?”

Yukhei seems to take pity on Mark’s visible turmoil as he brings his feet down from the tabletop and adjusts himself properly in his chair. He reaches into one of his drawers—oh, fuck, Mark’s going to get a gunshot to the head before he knows it—and he pulls out a book.

It’s not a gun.

It’s a book.

A yearbook, in fact.

“What—What’s that?” Mark asks, standing up from his seat and walking over to peer at the book. The year printed on the cover of the yearbook isn’t Mark’s graduating year and Mark only continues to inspect it quizzically before directing a look at Yukhei.

“This is Chenle’s,” Yukhei says, chuckling lowly to himself. “He said that you looked familiar… turns out it’s because he saw a picture of you in his high school yearbook.”

“What picture?”

Yukhei is happy to oblige and he flips open the yearbook, getting the intended page in one try. He probably practiced it earlier so he’d look cool doing this—cocky bastard. “This one,” he points a long index finger at a landscape-orientated photo spread over half the page. He laughs. “You look so fucking dorky.”

Mark can’t stop his eyes from widening in shock because printed in the yearbook is a picture of a very young Mark in his school uniform—his shirt is tucked into his pants that are pulled a little higher than normal, and he’s standing behind a music stand as he stares intently at the sheets of music clipped onto it, blowing into a flute held tightly between his fingers. He’s wearing his round-framed glasses and Yukhei is right. He does look dorky.

Fucking hell.

Yukhei’s still laughing when Mark tears his gaze from the page to glare at him.

“What’s so funny?” Mark snaps, shutting the yearbook in one swift motion. “I’d like to see how _you_ looked in high school if you’re so keen on laughing at me.”

“I think it’d be better if you didn’t,” Yukhei replies, unbothered by the sarcasm dripping from Mark’s words. “I was always really handsome, you’d just feel inferior looking at me.”

“I didn’t look nerdy all the time. That picture was taken on a day when I forgot my contacts!”

Yukhei grins. “So how much Mandarin do you remember?” he asks, blinking his large brown eyes at Mark. His gaze is a lot less hard than before now that he’s gotten to know Mark—or rather, now that he’s found himself comfortable enough to make Mark do his bidding in what he thinks is a ‘friendly’ way.

“What?”

“Chenle chose Spanish for his foreign language. You chose Mandarin, didn’t you?”

Mark narrows his eyes at Yukhei. “I did,” he admits. But how does Yukhei know that?

“You look like you understand a phrase or two whenever you eavesdrop on our conversations,” Yukhei offers as an explanation. “But not very often. You usually just look lost, but you have your moments.”

Mark has definitely been underestimating Yukhei. This guy is a lot more observant than Mark’s given him credit for. There’s a reason why some people are at the top of their game, and it becomes apparent why Yukhei was entrusted with such a large organisation at his relatively young age. There’s obviously some substance to him.

He is right when he says that Mark has his eureka moments when it comes to the Chinese language. He only took Mandarin classes for a few months before he left Seoul for Vancouver, and he hasn’t practiced the language in years so he can’t remember more than a few terms now.

“I don’t remember much,” Mark answers honestly. “I thought ‘ _gē_ ’ meant ‘master’ at first so I assumed you were a kinky bastard for making the other guys call you that.”

“I don’t make them call me ‘ _gē_ ’,” Yukhei states. “They do it on their own accord to show respect for me. I don’t care for it.”

Mark worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Oh yeah?”

“But I won’t refute the ‘kinky bastard’ comment.”

Mark cringes, stepping back from Yukhei’s desk and making the latter guffaw in glee. “Gross,” Mark mutters underneath his breath, but he can’t deny that it’s perfect comedic timing.

Yukhei is a lot more tolerable whenever he shows this entertaining side of him. Yukhei tilts his head to a side, still watching Mark with an amused expression on his face. It makes Mark squirm slightly.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Mark asks, scratching at the back of his head awkwardly. “You’re freaking me out.”

It’s not every day that Mark is in the presence of someone this attractive. It’s been months since Mark first laid eyes on him and yet Yukhei still remains one of the best looking people Mark’s ever seen. And sadly, Mark has yet to master the ability of comfortably having the full attention of someone this good looking.

Yukhei finds new ways to get under Mark’s skin with each passing day and sometimes Mark wonders if this is something of a game to him. He probably enjoys watching Mark fidget in place whenever his gaze lingers for a second too long.

Yukhei continues wordlessly staring at him for a few more seconds before leaning back and kicking his legs up onto the table once more. “Bring me a coffee,” he orders casually, closing his eyes in comfort after. “I want it iced and in a glass this time.”

Mark rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at Yukhei when he’s sure that he can’t see him. “Whatever you say,” Mark mumbles after, turning his heel and making his way towards the pantry.

 

* * *

 

“Mark,” Kun calls that morning, poking his head into Yukhei’s room. He waits until Mark looks up from where he’s wiping down Yukhei’s desk before speaking. “Did Xuxi come in yet?”

Mark shakes his head. “No,” he answers, noting how Kun looks a little frazzled. It’s unusual for Kun to already be distressed this early in the morning because his frustration usually builds up throughout the day, no thanks to the men-sized children he has to babysit around the office. “What’s up?”

Kun sighs, inviting himself into the room and collapsing onto the couch. “I just wanted to check if he’s going to this event tonight,” he explains, pulling his phone out of his pocket and swiping over the screen with his thumb. “Did he say anything about attending something today?”

“Not that I remember,” Mark admits. He’s not proud of it but he sometimes tunes out whenever the guys in Vision revert to their native tongues and start conversing in Mandarin around him. It’s tedious having to strain his ears to pick up the occasional word that he can understand, and piecing together the fragments of terms is even worse.

“You’re awfully early,” Kun notes offhandedly, not looking up from his phone.

Mark glances down at the surface of the desk sheepishly. He usually arrives an hour before the other guys start filing in to see if he can snoop around for any stray clues that can lead him to whatever it is that Taeyong thinks he’s capable of finding. Mark doesn’t quite know what he’s looking for yet but he supposes that blind devotion might get him somewhere.

He’s not about to tell Kun that, though.

Mark laughs embarrassedly. “Uh, yeah,” he mumbles, folding the rag in his hands. “You know how the boss gets when everything isn’t arranged the way he wants them.”

“You still call Xuxi ‘boss’?” Kun raises an eyebrow inquisitively, his expression conveying the puzzlement he feels. “Why?”

“Well… he hasn’t told me to call him anything else. Why?”

Kun chuckles to himself before going back to look through his phone. “That’s unusual,” he says, a smile still playing on his lips. “Xuxi let Chenle call him ‘ _gē_ ’ a couple of days after he started working here. Same goes for Yangyang. Dejun and Kunhang called him ‘ _gē_ ’ at first but they dropped it shortly after realising that they were the same age.”

“How… How old is the boss anyway?”

“27, I think,” Kun glances up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I think he’s 27.”

“Oh. I’m 27.”

Kun beams. It really becomes less and less believable that he’s part of the mafia whenever Kun smiles like that. He has the most sincere, fatherly smile of anyone in Vision. It makes Mark wonder what he usually deals with—is Kun secretly a cold-blooded killer or ruthless when making decisions concerning Vision’s illegal dealings?

Yukhei picks this as the perfect time to arrive, pushing open the glass doors to his office and blinking twice when he notices Kun’s presence. “Kun _gē_ ,” he greets, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him.

The other men previously following behind him hover awkwardly outside the door.

“Xuxi,” Kun exclaims, standing up from his seat. “We were just talking about you.”

Yukhei looks from Kun to Mark with a raised eyebrow. “Really,” he says, sounding a little surprised. “I’m not going to ask what about because I’m going to assume that you wouldn’t dare to badmouth me.”

Kun laughs. “You don’t have to be worried about being badmouthed if you didn’t do anything that’d warrant gossip to be spread about you,” he chides, pocketing his phone. “Anyway, I wanted to ask if you’re still attending the opening tonight. At Dream?”

“What’s that?”

Mark’s made his way over to a corner of the room by now with the rag still in his hands. He’s been dressing more smartly as of late because Yukhei wouldn’t let him stay in his comfortable sweaters and jeans. Mark smoothes down the light creases on his dress pants from bending down to wipe the table as he pretends to not be paying attention to the two men’s exchange before him.

Kun clicks his tongue. “I told you about it last week,” he sounds disappointed that Yukhei has no recollection of this. “You remember Renjun.”

Mark whips his head upwards at the mention of Renjun—are his ears failing him? He just heard the name _Renjun_. He blinks rapidly as he takes in expression on Yukhei’s face.

Yukhei has a poker face on. “Whatever,” he dismissively replies, shrugging and making his way towards his desk. He gives Mark a once-over as he takes in the surprised look on Mark’s face. “What? What’s up with your face?”

Mark schools his expression into something more neutral. “What?” he asks back.

“So you’re going?” Kun confirms with Yukhei once more. “Positive?”

Yukhei groans. “Whatever,” he repeats.

Kun shakes his head as he leaves the room.

Mark can feel his heart rate increasing as he continues to recall the sound of Renjun’s name as Kun said it. He hasn’t seen Renjun in years. He needs to find out what happened to him and that means that he’ll have to convince Yukhei to take him out with him tonight.

“You’re plotting something,” Yukhei states. He’s seated in his chair, leaning back comfortably as he gazes up at Mark’s person. “I can tell.”

“No I’m not,” Mark argues, knowing very well that it’s a lie. “Um… but where are you going tonight?”

The edges of Yukhei’s lips curl up into a knowing smile. “Why? Something you heard interest you?”

“No…”

“Then why are you asking?”

Talking to Yukhei feels like a battle of wits most times. Yukhei has a habit of putting Mark between a rock and a hard place by cornering him so he can only respond in one way— _Yukhei’s way_. He doesn’t take any other form of response. He just wants to hear what he wants to hear, and Mark still hasn’t found a foolproof way of ensuring that he doesn’t have to back down.

Yukhei’s still studying him with no inclination of moving on from this.

Mark sighs. “I want to go with you tonight… please,” the last part is added as an afterthought, but it visibly satisfies Yukhei.

“I don’t know about that…” Yukhei trails off, making a vague gesture with his hand. “Maybe if you begged me louder.”

“I’m not _begging_ you.”

There’s a twinkle in Yukhei’s eyes showing that he thinks the contrary.

“Fine. Take me with you tonight. _Please_.” It’s not the most sincere request that Mark’s ever made in his life, but he’s putting his dignity on a silver platter and serving it to this mafia overlord. If this isn’t enough for Yukhei—

“You aren’t even trying,” Yukhei scoffs. “But you’ll learn to beg the right way soon enough.” He turns to face his desk, reaching forwards for a thick folder set in front of him.

“Does that mean I can go?” Mark asks, circling the table to see if he can get Yukhei’s attention.

Yukhei doesn’t reply.

“It’s a yes, right?”

Yukhei only waves him away with a hand. “Whatever.”

Mark internally celebrates this small triumph. “I’ll go bring your coffee immediately,” he happily says, fighting back the grin that’s threatening to show on his face. He doesn’t wait for Yukhei to say anything else before he leaves out the door, waving as a form of greeting to Yangyang when they meet eyes through the glass panels.

 

The event that Yukhei has scheduled ends up being a visit to a newly opened club named Dream. It’s situated underground at the end of a dimly lit tunnel and there’s nothing dream-like about this whole place at all. Mark worries about an insect falling on top of him the entire time while he walks.

Yukhei somehow is still walking with the same swagger that he never really loses. Be it at 9AM or 9PM, Yukhei still walks like he owns the whole world. His footsteps are wide, his legs are long, and one of his hands is usually buried into his pocket while his other hand muses up his hair. It’s definitely something that he came up with after a lot of trial and error—it looks choreographed, like Yukhei practiced it countless of times in the mirror so he’d have the perfect walk.

Kunhang is surprised to see Mark in attendance that night. He rubs at his large eyes a few times when he sees Mark get out of the chauffeured car after Yukhei, and he snorts when he comes over to walk in pace with Mark. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he says, pointing out the obvious. “Why are you here?”

It’s by no means a rude statement or question—Kunhang is simply curious.

Mark shrugs. “I don’t know,” he lies, keeping his voice low. “The boss let me come so I followed.”

Kunhang doesn’t look convinced by Mark’s fib, but he doesn’t prod further. He only laughs to himself lowly. “Dejun and Yangyang should be in there already, the only person not allowed to come tonight was Chenle,” he says. “You might’ve heard about how he gets around alcohol.”

“I honestly haven’t.”

They’re led into the dark club after. It’s quiet for the standards of a club, the electronic music playing in the background is loud enough to drown out the scattered conversations occurring around them but just short of deafening. It’s a lot less packed as well, the small groups mingling around the bar and the booths are dressed impeccably and there are men and women alike smoking cigars and vaporisers held in their hands.

The interior is obviously new, but Mark can’t pinpoint the exact concept of the place. It looks like something out of someone’s nightmare with the splattered reds on black furniture, but there are also large artworks framed that feature pastel colours and clouds. There’s a huge piece of graffiti art on one of the exposed brick walls spelling out _DREAM_.

A hostess makes her way over to usher their group over to the back of the club, past the unusually empty dance floor and into a private room with plush velvet sofas and a large mahogany table decorated with various bottles of expensive liquor.

“Xuxi _gē_!” Mark hears Yangyang’s voice call the minute they step in. Yangyang is standing next to Dejun, who nods to acknowledge their arrival.

There are a few more guys who Mark can recognise around the office sometimes—but then there’s _Renjun_.

Mark holds back the gasp that threatens to escape between his lips. He feels his throat constrict uncomfortably as he takes in the scene in front of him.

Renjun looks older now, much like Mark has matured over the years, but what stands out the most is that Renjun doesn’t look like he’s being held hostage. He doesn’t look like the tortured mess Mark would’ve expected to find him as. Renjun looks fine— _amazing_ , even.

He still has a slim physique but there’s an air to Renjun that’s different now. He looks more powerful, more influential, and more—like _them_. Renjun reminds Mark of Yukhei in some ways. Renjun’s hair is styled up with a lot of product, the dyed brown strands thick as they’re combed away from his face. Renjun’s dressed in a grey blazer with a Gucci t-shirt underneath, and if there was any question over his wealth, the thick gold chains hanging around his neck will deter them.

Fuck, Renjun is one of the mafia.

Mark didn’t know what he expected to find when he first heard the mention of Renjun’s name, but he knows that he didn’t expect _this_.

Mark wonders for a split second if Renjun even remembers him. He watches as Renjun’s eyes sweep over his person without an inkling of recognition. It’s safe to conclude that he doesn’t.

Mark can’t help the bitter feeling that pools inside his stomach.

“Renjun,” Yukhei speaks up as he takes a seat in an armchair that Dejun vacates for him. “Congratulations on the opening.”

“And here I thought that you forgot about me,” Renjun replies, letting out the same bubble of laughter that Mark hasn’t heard in years. He pours Yukhei a drink. “Kun _gē_ said you didn’t want to come.”

Yukhei shakes his head, receiving the glass of whiskey that Renjun passes to him with ease. “You’re my cousin,” he says lowly, taking a sip from the glass. “I couldn’t forget about you even if I tried.”

“Fourth cousin.”

“You guys keep track of that shit?” Kunhang quips. He left Mark’s side a few moments ago to find a seat next to Kun, who’s quietly nursing a drink himself.

“Obviously not,” Yukhei replies, at the same time Renjun says, “Of course.”

Kunhang chuckles. “Yukhei, we’re, what… third cousins twice removed?”

“I don’t care,” Yukhei says with a smile. “Someone pour Guanheng a drink so he’ll shut up.” Kunhang and Yukhei are the only two who call each other by their Cantonese names, but when referring to each other in their circle of associates, they end up using their Mandarin names.

Mark continues hovering by the entrance, unsure of what he should do. He wants to leave, mostly because he can’t stand the idea of being around someone who’s been consciously evading him for the last half a decade, but also because he feels incredibly out of place being in an enclosed space with these Chinese mafia members.

Mark doesn’t realise that he’s been spacing out until he hears Yukhei’s voice cut through the others’ conversations. He seems to have a sixth sense for isolating Yukhei’s voice nowadays.

“Renjun,” Yukhei begins, standing up to pour himself another glass of whiskey. “How has life been in Beijing for the past few years?”

Renjun hands a champagne flute to a passing hostess before turning to face Yukhei. “Oh, it’s been okay,” Renjun replies in Mandarin. “You’ve been speaking in Korean the entire night.”

Renjun’s always been sharp, even more so than Mark. Mark’s surprised that he noticed that little detail.

“Some of us don’t speak Mandarin,” Yukhei easily responds, still using Korean. “Why? Is your Korean rusty?”

Renjun detects the slight challenge in Yukhei’s tone and he reverts to Korean. “I’ve always been better at Korean than you and you know it. Also, I used it quite a fair bit back in Beijing so I reckon that it’s even better now.”

Yukhei laughs.

Mark really wants to leave. He’s been holding on to the same shot glass that Yangyang pressed into his hands a half hour ago. He downs it in one go, feeling the burn along the back of his throat as the alcohol slides down. He places the empty glass onto a tray a waiter holds out to him before directing a weak smile in thanks his way.

“I’m going to go now,” Mark walks over and whispers to Dejun who’s been inspecting a deck of playing cards idly since Mark first saw him earlier. When Dejun hums, Mark goes to leave.

Tonight’s revelation makes him miss Donghyuck, Jaemin, and Jeno all the more. They were inseparable back in university, and God knows that they deserve some form of closure when it comes to this Renjun situation as well.

Mark quickens his footsteps and he walks right out of the club into the chilly night. He only realises that he doesn’t have a ride home when he’s standing by the sidewalk, slightly buzzed from the alcohol and very warm around the collar of his button-up shirt.

Yukhei’s chauffeur pulls up by the pavement not too long after Mark decides to call for a cab. “Mr. Lee,” the chauffeur says after he’s wound down the tinted window. “Boss Wong told me to take you home tonight.”

Mark raises an eyebrow as he slides his phone back into his pocket. So he won’t need to call for a cab after all. He didn’t even realise that Yukhei noticed him leave. “Are you sure?” Mark asks, but he knows that it’s a stupid question.

Yukhei’s people don’t listen to orders that don’t come from him.

Mark gets into the car anyway. “Thanks, Mr. Zhang,” he says to the driver, who nods politely at him through the rearview mirror.

“Boss is a warmer guy than he seems,” Mr. Zhang supplies as he begins driving. “He’s a very soft-hearted boy.”

Mark wonders momentarily if they’re speaking of the same man. Wong Yukhei comes off as anything _but_ “soft-hearted”. Mark only hums in reply. “I’m sure he is.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning: this chapter is 21k words long, so grab your favourite beverage and a snack... and enjoy.
> 
> also, happy belated birthday to mark lee! ♡

Mark tries to sweep the thought of Renjun under the metaphorical carpet of his head for the next few days. He successfully does, too. He doesn’t think about Renjun, he doesn’t consider the bitter sense of betrayal lingering in his mind, and he ignores the fact that he has to keep this from their mutual friends to avoid exposing his undercover job. Complete avoidance of this topic is one of his most successful feats in the recent days.

It slips Mark’s mind to thank Yukhei for instructing his chauffeur to take Mark home that night but Yukhei doesn’t mention it either, so by the time Mark remembers it’s already too late to say anything without making the whole atmosphere awkward. Mark’s thankful all the same so he repays this small debt by biting back a few of his retorts whenever Yukhei makes ridiculous demands of him again.

Mark doesn’t think that he wants to cross paths with Renjun any time soon. But, of course, the universe always has its own plans to fuck with him.

“Yuta’s back,” Sicheng says one day as he saunters into Yukhei’s office.

Yukhei is seated in his usual chair with Kun and Chenle taking the seats opposite him. Mark is half-sitting and half-melted into the sofa located in the corner of Yukhei’s room. They all glance up to watch as Sicheng makes his way to Chenle’s chair, shooing the younger man out of it so he can sit in it himself.

Chenle gives up his seat unhappily. He huffs as he stomps over to collapse into the sofa right next to Mark.

“And?” Yukhei asks lazily. “What does he want this time?”

“He wants to party,” Sicheng rolls his eyes as he says the words. “He already booked Dream for tonight. He said that Renjun probably needs the business since only the elite can afford the outrageous prices he charges for drinks.”

“Yuta thinks he’s a part of the elite?” Kun jokes, making them chuckle. “That’s darling.”

Chenle purses his lips from beside Mark. “Can I come this time?” he asks. “I didn’t get to see what Dream looks like the other day because Guanheng _gē_ put me on lookout!”

“You’re a child so you’re staying here,” Yukhei chides.

“I’m 25!”

“Yeah, a child,” Kun deadpans, making Sicheng snigger. “Plus you’re the most junior of all of us. Someone has to stay back to discuss things with Mr. Kim tonight.”

“Isn’t Mark the most junior?” Chenle argues, and it’s a valid point. “You guys never make Mark do the dirty work!”

Mark decides against speaking up for himself. He knows that there’s no malignancy behind Chenle’s argument—Chenle is simply trying to make a convincing supporting statement for himself. Mark shakes his head slowly, smiling softly at the earnestness Chenle is exuding for a stupid party. He’d gladly let Chenle go in his place, he doesn’t want to see Renjun anyway.

“That’s not in his job scope,” Sicheng reasons, flicking a small piece of lint away from the shoulder pad of his jacket.

Mark blinks at Chenle innocently, still choosing to keep quiet. He’s not going to dig his own grave by saying anything to tease him—it’d just stir up the trouble of having to determine his own purpose here in Vision. He barely knows what his own job scope entails so he doubts that Sicheng has enough knowledge about it to correctly use it against Chenle.

Miraculously, Chenle is placated by that weak excuse. He sighs dramatically, draping himself over Mark as he goes limp. “They won’t let me go because they fear me,” Chenle moans, letting Mark support the entirety of his upper body weight. “I’ll show them one of these days.”

Mark pats the top of Chenle’s head. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think I’m allowed to go either,” Mark says softly, hoping to weasel his way out of tonight’s function.

“Oh, you are,” Kun interjects. “You can come if you want.”

Mark looks up from Chenle’s pouting face to see Yukhei looking straight at him. They don’t break eye contact as Mark considers this. “I…” Mark opens his mouth to speak, but he abandons whatever he was about to say with a sigh. “I mean, okay. Thanks, Kun.”

Yukhei looks away after, tapping a nail against the glass on the top of his desk. “Let’s get back to business,” he says, sniffling. “Kun _gē_ , you said something about a job with Dong Woo Corp?”

Kun nods. “A prospective logistics deal.”

Sicheng yawns, standing up to leave the room. “This is boring so I’m going to go before it gets serious,” he supplies with a smile, turning and catching the eye of the two men lying on the couch. “Since you’re both free right now, why don’t I get one of you to get me the forwarding documents from the guys out there… and the other one can make me a nice cup of coffee.”

Mark glances down at Chenle at the same time the latter looks up at him. “Coffee,” they both say at the same time. “Jinx!” Mark calls quickly. “You’re collecting the files from the guys. I get coffee duty.”

Chenle groans as he pushes himself to sit up. “You never let me win!” he cries, sounding like every bit of the spoilt child the other guys in Vision treat him as.

Mark snorts, getting up to his feet and excusing himself as he sees Kun and Yukhei resume their discussion. He briefly meets eyes with Yukhei once more while he’s walking towards the glass door, but the moment comes as quickly as it goes when Yukhei gives him a small smile before looking back at Kun to continue talking.

“I don’t understand how you wriggled your way into Xuxi _gē_ ’s good books that quickly,” Mark hears Chenle complain as they make their way into the hub of the office where everyone’s desks are located.

“I highly doubt so. He still makes me clean his office. I’m still an errand boy… I do his dirty work all the time.”

Chenle shakes his head. “Does it matter if you’re told to do simple shit when he takes you with him to parties? I don’t think so!” After saying his piece, Chenle storms off in the direction of Dejun’s desk to pester him to hand over the documents that Sicheng asked for. Mark hears him mutter something along the lines ofYukhei “playing favourites” under his breath.

Mark gapes at the empty spot Chenle left for a while before snapping out of it to go into the pantry.

 

Coming back to Dream this soon wasn’t something Mark had in mind for himself any time soon, but he has a couple of things to prove by stepping back into this place. One, that he’s a professional detective (undercover or not) and he can work under immense pressure from personal issues, and two, that he can revert Yukhei’s assumption of whatever it is that’s bothering him about Dream.

Mark gave the look Yukhei directed at him some thought—that small smile that looked all too knowing—and he realised that he’s probably been wearing his heart on his sleeve. Yukhei’s going to put two and two together soon enough and realise that Mark has ties to Renjun that stem from something bitter, and eventually Renjun might rat Mark out because he was always vocal about his aspirations to become a detective even back in university. Mark already put himself into a little bit of hot water by leaving the last party early.

He’s determined to stay till the end in this one. He’ll be golden as long as he stays away from Renjun and doesn’t reveal his identity.

That plan is easier said than done.

The moment Mark steps into the place right behind Yukhei, he’s greeted by a man with medium-length hair, speaking rapid-fire Japanese to one of the hostesses. This must be Yuta. “Champagne!” Yuta shouts excitedly, accidentally smacking the man seated next to him on the sofa in the face when he stands up in a hurry to envelop Yukhei in a hug.

Sicheng looks unimpressed with how Yuta is already bouncing on the tip of his toes even before the night has officially started. He directs a knowing look towards the victim of Yuta’s smack.

“Xuxi!” Yuta calls, grinning widely when he lets Yukhei go. “How’s my favourite boy?”

Yukhei laughs. “It’s good to see you,” he says, receiving the flute of champagne Yuta pushes into one of his hands. “I see you brought Taeil with you.”

“Against my will, obviously,” Taeil—the innocent bystander who got slapped in Yuta’s excitement—replies. “Who’s the kid?”

Mark realises then that he’s talking about him. “Uh…” Mark scratches the back of his head, looking to Yukhei. Can he speak for himself? The last time he answered a stranger’s question directed at him, it was when Yukhei asked him “who the fuck” he was and Kun looked silently panicked that Mark dared to say anything.

Yukhei rolls his eyes slightly. “You’re perfectly capable of talking for yourself,” he deadpans, his deep voice drowned out slightly by the music.

“I’m Mark,” Mark says after sticking his tongue out at Yukhei.

“Mark, huh?” Yuta asks, sizing Mark up as he looks him up and down. “Not too tall, feisty, and kind of dumb… he’s exactly your type, Xuxi.”

Mark gapes at him. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

“You heard me. Wow, he’s got some serious attitude.”

Is Yuta challenging him? Is this some kind of hazing process all over again because if Yuta wants a fight, Mark’s ready to give him one. Mark stands up straighter, clenching his jaw tight as he glares at the Japanese man. If Yuta says one more patronising word, Mark’s going to give him a piece of his mind.

Yukhei chuckles, resting a large hand on the centre of Mark’s chest to hold him back. “Relax, Mark,” he says. “Yuta, Mark’s a… new addition,” Yukhei says, clearly enjoying watching how Yuta managed to rile Mark up with just a few words. “Your description of him is very accurate, by the way.”

Mark directs his glare Yukhei’s way.

Yuta smirks. “Oops,” he exclaims, reaching behind him to take another glass. He offers it to Mark. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were a newbie,” he nods for Mark to take the drink from him. “I’ll take my words back for now. I’ll make fun of you after we get to know each other better.”

Yukhei looks behind him, raising an eyebrow to indicate that Mark should take the drink and form a truce with Yuta. The back of his hand is still resting on Mark’s chest.

Mark reluctantly plucks the champagne flute from between Yuta’s fingers. “All’s good,” he grits out from between his teeth. “No hard feelings.”

Yuta beams before punching Yukhei lightly in the arm and bounding off to pester Sicheng again.

“Are you still mad?” Yukhei asks. He drops the protective hand he held against Mark’s torso. Mark glances up to watch as he turns to study Mark’s face.

Mark schools his expression into something more neutral as he takes a sip of the champagne in his hand. “Nope,” he replies after, popping the ‘p’. “I’m peachy.”

“You’re still bothered. I can tell.”

Mark blinks blankly at him in reply.

Yukhei immediately shrugs, reaching over to brush the dust off the shoulders of Mark’s blazer.

This has become a sort of habit for Yukhei nowadays and Mark can’t really remember how this started out. All Mark knows is that Yukhei needs to stop doing this so often. Mark doubts that there’s any real dust on his clothes any more with the frequency at which Yukhei does this manoeuvre.

“If you insist that you aren’t angry,” Yukhei says in a singsong manner. “I was going to get someone to pull a prank on him in your honour but I guess there’s no need for that now.”

Mark scrunches up his nose in distaste. “I don’t need you to do anything in my honour,” he retorts, confused and bewildered that Yukhei thinks he needs to stand up for him. “I can get my own vengeance. I’m stronger than you think.”

Yukhei nods. “Of course you are.”

Mark doesn’t detect any sarcasm in Yukhei’s tone as he speaks, but he doesn’t care to decode what his interim boss thinks of him. Mark sees Kun waving them over from a corner of the room. “I think Kun’s calling for you.”

Yukhei laughs as he lifts his champagne flute to his lips to take a small sip. “Let’s see what the old man wants with me now,” he remarks, trudging his long legs over towards Kun, who has an eyebrow quirked upwards in question as if he heard Yukhei’s jab at him.

 

Mark doesn’t bump into Renjun until much later into the night. He was actually beginning to enjoy himself before Renjun’s appearance. Yangyang and Kunhang were engaged in a very entertaining argument over who actually deserves more respect between Kun and Yukhei—Yangyang argues that Yukhei values Kun’s opinion more than his own whereas Kunhang says that Yukhei’s still the boss at the end of the day, so why is this a question?

Mark was just invested in listening.

Renjun’s arrival is a grand one, however. He interjects right before Yangyang can finish making his closing statement on why Kun is technically the “boss of the boss”. Renjun is followed by three waiters with large bottles of champagne in their arms.

“Welcome back!” Renjun exclaims, reaching his arms out wide to envelop Yuta into a hug. He proceeds to wrap his arms around Taeil as well. “I haven’t seen you guys in years.”

“I thought you weren’t much of a hugger,” Taeil says, patting Renjun on the shoulder after they step back from the hug. “It seems like time away did you some good in the human interaction department.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “ _Haha_ ,” he laughs dryly. “Very funny, Taeil _hyung_. I’m all hugged out for the next century, so don’t expect any more of this nonsense from me. Today is an exception.”

Yuta snorts. “It’s always the people who pretend to be unfeeling who feel the most,” he supplies. “Right, Sicheng?”

Sicheng promptly looks up from where he’s dealing playing cards to a small circle of men to flip Yuta the bird.

Mark picks up what looks like a mojito from a passing waitress’ serving tray and takes a sip out of the shallow glass, turning away from where Renjun’s now mingling with the guests at his club. The further he gets away from Renjun, the better. He doubts that Renjun can even put a name to his face yet.

He manages to spend a few minutes hanging around a corner of the private lounge away from the others before he’s interrupted by a light tap on his shoulder. Mark looks up from where he’s been focused on scrolling through the recent text messages on his phone—there are multiple notifications from Donghyuck and a cat meme from Jeno. He immediately gawks at the person standing in front of him when they lock eyes.

Renjun.

“Hey,” Renjun greets, holding up a glass of red wine in his hands to invite Mark to clink glasses with him. Mark belatedly does. “Xuxi _gē_ told me about the new addition to his ranks and I just had to come talk to you.”

Mark gulps down the remainder of his mojito save for the decorative mint leaves. “Oh,” he exclaims, his throat feeling dry as he speaks. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m… Lee.”

“Lee.”

“Yes.”

Renjun laughs as he lifts his glass slightly in the air once more with a nod. “Alright, Lee. I’m Huang,” he says. There’s a hint of derision laced with amusement in his tone. “We’ll get to first name basis soon, I hope. It’s never done me any good to be on the bad side of one of Xuxi _gē_ ’s guys. Moreover his _guy_.”

Mark raises an eyebrow at that. Yukhei’s “guy”? He takes in how Renjun’s laughing at his expression of puzzlement.

“Don’t worry your little head over wordplay,” Renjun dismisses the topic entirely. “So, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself. How’d you come to be involved with Wong Yukhei and co.?”

“I just…” Mark drawls, feeling around the stem of the glass in his hand as he thinks up an appropriate way to tell his ‘story’. “I’ve always wanted to make it big and I was recruited through recommendation by Jungwoo. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

“Jungwoo? Kim Jungwoo?” Renjun asks. When Mark nods, he whistles lowly. “Jungwoo _hyung_ ’s all the way in Shenzhen doing business with my uncle now. Wow… Small world.”

“It really is.”

Renjun takes a quick sip of his wine, nodding slowly. It’s obvious that they don’t have much to say to each other—Renjun’s just trying to be polite by greeting all the guests at his club so they don’t feel alienated from everything that’s going on around them. It’s a smart business tactic. Renjun’s always been smart.

“What about you?” Mark blurts out suddenly, unable to stop the words before they fall out of his mouth. “Your Korean’s really good… but I heard them say that you’ve been working in Beijing.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Oh? That’s good to hear,” he replies, pursing his lips. “About my Korean being good, that is. Well… I lived in Korea for a few years for school… then I went back to Beijing to sort out some personal matters… and now that everything’s been settled over in China I thought I’d come back.”

Mark studies Renjun’s face as he speaks. Renjun doesn’t look particularly bothered by the question at all. He answers it casually, too, as if he’s not glossing over years of his life that he’s spent ghosting his closest friends from university. But Mark digresses. He’s not here for this.

“It’s kind of funny, actually. I didn’t think I’d want to come back.”

“You have a few things to run from?”

This surprises Renjun but he contains it well. “Maybe,” he says vaguely, laughing it off. “Anyway, I have some things I need to discuss with Kun _gē_ , I’ll talk to you later.” And with a curt nod, Renjun leaves.

Mark lets out the sigh that he’s been holding for the past few minutes of their conversation. This is agitating to him. He can’t question Renjun like he wants to because he can’t divulge any bit of his identity, but Renjun is pushing his buttons by refusing to acknowledge that he walked out on his friends all those years ago without as much as a goodbye.

Even now that he’s back for good, Renjun hasn’t made any effort to reach out to any one of them to clarify the past.

Nobody would hold a grudge against him if he were to explain himself properly. But Renjun doesn’t seem to understand that his disappearance has always been at the back of their minds.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Yukhei’s voice asks from beside Mark suddenly, shaking Mark out of his reverie.

Mark had been staring at the spot that Renjun left moments ago, his mind occupied by his racing thoughts. He didn’t even notice that Yukhei approached him. Mark tilts his head up slightly to look Yukhei in the eyes. “What?” he asks, having only barely registered Yukhei’s words.

“You look upset,” Yukhei responds lazily. “Do you want to go home?”

Mark nods against his own conscious will.

“I’ll have Mr. Zhang take you home.” Yukhei pulls out his phone from his back pocket, the screen lighting up immediately as he types rapidly into the phone. “Yeah, he’s right outside.”

“You aren’t—” Mark begins before pausing to reassess his sentence structure. “Aren’t you coming?”

An edge of Yukhei’s lips curve upwards into a smirk. “No,” he replies, reaching forward to pluck the empty glass from between Mark’s fingers. “Not unless you want me to.”

Mark stares at Yukhei for a few seconds—taking in the self-satisfied smirk on his face, the tousled black hair, and the way the top two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned. Yukhei is dangerous in more ways than one. Mark quickly shakes his head. “That’s not necessary,” he hurriedly snaps, gently nudging Yukhei aside so he can get to the door. “I’ll be right out.”

“Mark!” Yukhei calls right when Mark’s about to push open the heavy oak doors of the private room.

Mark turns to look at him.

Yukhei pulls out his phone again and waves it in the air slightly next to his face. “Let me know when he drops you off,” he says before walking away to speak to Kunhang without as much as a proper goodbye.

Mark contemplates this for a fraction of a second before he pushes the door open and pads out of the club and into the dark of the night.

 

Mark doesn’t forget to send Yukhei a text message when he gets home. It’s a simple message that reads: _Home. Thanks._

He gets a reply from Yukhei 10 minutes later and it’s only one word long but conveys just enough. _Good_.

 

* * *

 

The next week becomes something of a blur to Mark. Nothing really happens so the days meld into one another and he soon realises that he can’t tell the difference between Monday and Thursday. Everything is sort of monotonous and repetitive and nothing out of the ordinary happens around Vision’s headquarters. Everyone behaves the same way they did the days before and nothing exciting occurs.

Mark’s days begin early with him snooping around the place and sending quick pictures of documents to Taeyong whenever he can. Taeyong doesn’t care much for them, evidenced by how he doesn’t respond to Mark’s picture messages, but a job is a job.

Mark comes to learn about these guys at a deeper level and it’s weird but he feels them… _bonding_. It’s one thing to say that he finds Chenle’s childish defiance endearing, but it’s a whole other thing to say that he’d probably take a bullet for Chenle if the situation calls for it. And he kind of thinks that Chenle would do the same for him.

Chenle reminds Mark of the younger brother he never had. Yangyang sometimes gives him that impression as well, but Yangyang toes on the edge of being neurotic and he doesn’t appeal to Mark’s brotherly instincts as much.

Spending so much time together with them has instilled some sort of blind devotion for them in Mark’s heart. They don’t seem like terrible people—aside from the fact that they dabble in multiple different fronts of illegal activity—but _they_ aren’t terrible as _people_. Mark shudders at the thought. He’s developing some sort of connection with these guys and it’s messing with his head.

Maybe in another week he won’t be able to differentiate the good from the bad. He really needs to get his priorities checked out. A wellness retreat should be in order.

Yukhei’s still a hardheaded boss, but he has his own moments that have really made Mark want to side-eye him. He makes Mark carry his cigarettes now and there’s a particular spot that he wants Mark to keep them in for the sake of convenience (or so he says)—the left pocket of Mark’s pants, regardless of whatever pants he’s wearing. It’s almost an unspoken rule by now because Yukhei sometimes reaches into the pocket on his own accord and if he doesn’t find his cigarettes tucked into the pocket he throws something of a fit.

It surprises everyone to see Yukhei lift a finger to get his own cigarettes, even if it is in such an unusual manner, but Mark’s not about to question him. Acting as an honorary cigarette holder is better than being at Yukhei’s beck and call whenever he wants someone to light up his smokes.

It’s nice that he’s finally doing something for himself for a change.

However, the boredom of their days hasn’t come to only Mark’s attention. Chenle speaks up one day in the middle of the communal area of the office where all the desks are placed.

“What are everyone’s plans for the night?” Chenle asks, his legs propped up onto Dejun’s desk. Dejun is eyeing him annoyedly as Chenle nonchalantly continues toying with his Rubik’s cube.

“Go home… sleep,” Kunhang yawns, leaning back into his swivel chair tiredly. “Xuxi made me run all these crazy errands. I had to deal with four annoying Cantonese men all by myself last night.”

Chenle clicks his tongue. “You’ve handled more,” he says with a wink. This gets him a strong kick from Yangyang, who laughs breathlessly. Chenle almost topples out of his chair, but he regains his balance and grins widely. “Mark! I’m thinking of going out tonight, do you want to come?”

Mark’s been silent for the past few minutes as he leans against the doorframe to the pantry. He’s content just observing them from a distance, really, because now that he’s aware of how more interactions with them builds a stronger connection between them, he’s trying to minimise whatever relationship-building contact that might be a conflict of interest for him. “Not really,” Mark awkwardly replies, scratching the back of his head.

Yangyang glowers at him. “You never go out with us!” he complains.

“Who said that I was inviting you?” Chenle retorts, throwing his Rubik’s cube at Yangyang’s head but the latter catches it with two hands just before it collides with his face.

“Shut up,” Yangyang snaps. “You’re obviously going to suck up to Xuxi _gē_ by inviting him, and you know how much Xuxi _gē_ loves me so I’d be invited by default.”

“Are we really going out tonight?” Dejun asks, stretching his arms up above his head. “Can we not do tonight?”

“But there’s going to be an open mic at Jisung’s bar tonight!” Chenle argues.

“Not tonight for me either,” Kunhang quips from his corner. “I’m _exhausted_.”

At that moment, Dejun receives a call. He puts it on loudspeaker. It’s an intercom call from Yukhei.

“Does Mark have anything going on tonight?” Yukhei’s voice asks from the phone.

Mark glances over at Yukhei’s office, trying to see past the glass panels but he can’t see Yukhei as his chair is turned away from their direction. Mark shrugs when Dejun lifts a thick eyebrow in question. What does Yukhei want from him this time?

“Mark’s coming with me to Jisung’s bar!” Chenle shouts into the phone, sitting up excitedly. “Do you want to come, _gē_?”

Mark watches as Yukhei spins his chair around so he can watch them from inside his office. Mark shakes his head at him, letting him know that he’s not going with Chenle. Yukhei gets the point.

“Now he isn’t,” Yukhei says as a matter of fact, making Chenle’s face fall. “He’s coming with me on a business venture. And you too, Yangyang.”

Yangyang groans outwardly. “Really?” he yells, glaring at Yukhei who’s smirking at him from inside the office. “I’d prefer it if you only invited me out when it’s not for business.”

Yukhei shrugs before hanging up on the call. Mark then sees him quirk a finger to gesture for Mark to enter his room.

Mark looks to Chenle who only rolls his eyes. “Sorry,” Mark apologises without actually feeling sorry. “Maybe some other time? Drinks will be on me.” That seems to pacify Chenle as he waves Mark away to go tend to their boss. Mark smiles lightly before making his way towards Yukhei’s office.

He pokes his head into the room and makes sure that his voice sounds flat when he asks a troubled “What?”

 

“Business” is not what it’s cut out to be when Mark has to sit around a poker table at a casino and play rounds on rounds of cards with someone he can only guess is a foreign investor who’s more interested in _Mark_ than in, well, _business_. It’s tiresome having to deny his advances especially when he keeps offering to buy Mark drinks.

There are three girls standing around this Mr. Ding who pushes all his chips into the centre and makes a crude joke about playing strip poker.

Mark pretends that he can’t understand his thick accent.

Eventually, Yangyang comes to save him by evacuating Mark to the other corner of the casino where Yukhei was discussing something with another businessman.

Mark doesn’t think twice before jumping up from his seat and making a beeline for Yukhei, who’s somehow sitting alone by now. “Where’s… whoever it was who was here with you before you pushed me into the lion’s den as bait?” Mark asks, poorly concealing his displeasure that Yukhei made him entertain that sleazy asshole.

Yukhei laughs. “You get so upset so easily,” he says, standing up with a flourish. “Who did you think sent Yangyang to save you, anyway? I didn’t think Mr. Ding would be interested in the likes of you.”

Mark flinches when Yukhei reaches forward to brush at shoulders of his blazer again. “Don’t,” he hisses. Mark can pull his own weight and defend himself at any point in time—he’s a detective, god damn it—but Yukhei always thinks he’s doing him such a big favour by ‘saving’ him from situations that he puts Mark in himself. “You don’t have to act like you’re some kind of Prince Charming saving me on a white stallion.”

“Are white Lamborghinis not considered stallions anymore? I’m hurt,” Yukhei feigns ignorance.

They both look up when a group approaches them, led by Yangyang. Yangyang only offers them a small smile. “Mr. Ding was wondering where Mark went,” Yangyang says with a slightly pained expression on his face. “I told him that the boss asked for Mark, but he insisted that he come with.”

“Mr. Ding, you should take a seat,” Yukhei offers, gesturing towards the armchairs in front of them. “Kun is on his way… I think you’ll remember Qian Kun.”

“Kun?” Mr. Ding asks, his eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t know you were affiliated with Qian Kun.”

Yukhei smiles, not moving as Mr. Ding takes a seat. “I’m going to have to take my leave because I left something back at the office. I’ll leave Yangyang with you to wait for Kun, he’ll be right over to take care of you.” He doesn’t wait for a response before curling a finger into one of the belt loops of Mark’s pants and pulling him along behind him.

Mark almost trips over his own two feet in an effort to keep up with Yukhei. The fact that no one else is following them doesn’t escape past him. “Where are we going?” he asks quietly, but Yukhei doesn’t reply immediately.

They get to the front of the casino where the valet parking attendant passes Yukhei the keys to a white Lamborghini parked directly out front. Yukhei finally lets go of Mark’s belt loop as he descends the stairs to climb into his car.

Mark continues standing at the top of the stairs, slightly stunned that Yukhei wasn’t joking about owning a white Lamborghini. He probably shouldn’t have made that Prince Charming on a white horse joke because now he just feels stupid.

“What the hell are you waiting for?” Yukhei asks loudly from inside his car. He revs his engine a few times as he waves at Mark to hurry over. “I don’t have all night.”

Mark snaps out of his self-induced pity and runs down the stairs, awkwardly getting into Yukhei’s car. “Is this even yours?”

“What?” Yukhei shuts the driver’s door and waits for Mark to do the same.

“Mr. Zhang drove us here in a SUV… did you steal this?”

“Did you see me hot wire the car?”

“No,” Mark offers, admiring the sleek interior of the Lamborghini. He shakes his head after, turning to look at Yukhei who’s fiddling with the touchscreen of the stereo. “I guess not.”

Yukhei snorts. “I always have a car parked in places I frequent,” he deadpans, giving up and putting his hands on the steering wheel as he changes the gears on the gearbox. “Play something good on the stereo. God knows that all the radio stations play garbage nowadays.”

Mark takes a few seconds to process this before he pairs his phone with the stereo to play one of the preset playlists that he finds on his phone. He’s not about to play a personally curated one for Yukhei—no, that would be akin to baring his soul to him.

 

Yukhei parks into a spot that Mark’s never noticed in the carpark of Vision’s building when he comes in the morning. It’s a private spot right in a corner of the parking lot. Yukhei seamlessly parks the car into the box in one go, killing the engine after and getting out of the car.

“What did you forget at the office?” Mark asks as they ascend to the top floor in the lift. It’s quiet at this time of the day—11PM at night, _perfect_. “Couldn’t you get Kunhang to bring it to you or something?”

Yukhei grunts in response as the elevator dings to announce their arrival at their chosen floor. He steps out suavely and the lights on their floor immediately flicker on in his presence. He gets Mark to turn on the air conditioning in the area as he walks towards his office.

“Do you want coffee?” Mark offers. It’s an instinct by now to make Yukhei a fresh cup whenever he steps into the place. Sure, it’s almost midnight, but Mark can never be too safe. One can’t just assume what Wong Yukhei wants or doesn’t want.

Yukhei shakes his head. “I’ve got some wine in one of the cupboards… bring it in.”

Mark finds the Cabernet Sauvignon sitting in a cabinet easily. The bottle had been bothering him for weeks ever since he first noticed it was put there—haphazardly stored between boxes of tea and a bag of coffee beans. It looked so out of place but he was in no position to speak up about it, so he’s glad that it’s finally going to be out of his hair tonight.

Yukhei pulls out a corkscrew from God knows where in his drawers and he pushes it across his desk towards Mark. There are already two wine glasses perched on the table as Yukhei rummages through one of his shelves in search of something.

Mark didn’t think that he’d be drinking with Yukhei, but he supposes that he deserves a proper drink after the hell that he’s been through tonight trying to stop himself from committing murder on that repulsive Mr. Ding. He struggles with the corkscrew for a bit, causing Yukhei to turn to look at him, but when Yukhei reaches for the wine bottle he stubbornly insists that he can do it himself.

Yukhei only watches him with amusement.

“There,” Mark exclaims when the cork pops out of the bottle with one firm tug. He tips the wine glass as he pours the wine out and hands it to Yukhei. “What did you leave at the office, anyway?”

Yukhei takes the glass from him gingerly and swirls the wine a few times before taking a quick whiff. “Nothing,” he replies as he takes a sip.

Mark’s halfway through pouring his own glass when he looks up. “What do you mean?”

Yukhei sits himself down into his swivel chair as he gestures for Mark to do the same. “I mean nothing. I didn’t leave anything behind.”

Mark gulps down half of his glass as he takes a seat opposite Yukhei. The skyline that he oftentimes admires through the large glass panels behind Yukhei’s desk look a lot different as compared to what it looks like in the daylight. The view of the cityscape at night is breathtaking. He diverts his attention back to Yukhei, who has a small smile curled along his lips. “But you said…” Mark trails off.

“You wanted to get out of there,” Yukhei says simply, picking up the wine bottle and filling Mark’s glass to the halfway point once more. “I gave you an excuse so you could leave.”

Mark opens his mouth to say something but he shuts it immediately when he realises that he doesn’t know exactly what he wants to say. He opts for taking another few gulps of wine instead. “You didn’t have to come with me, though.”

Yukhei raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Um, yeah.”

Yukhei doesn’t look convinced. “Would you have left if I didn’t give you a reason to go?”

Mark considers this for a moment before shaking his head. He’s far too steadfast for his own good. He would’ve seen the night through because it was part of his job and he’s not the kind of person who gives up halfway. But Yukhei doesn’t know that.

“You’re stubborn,” Yukhei states, continuing to swirl his glass as he watches Mark. “You wouldn’t have left.”

There’s a bit more wine in Mark’s glass and he cleans that off in one go. He’s never really enjoyed the taste of wine, but this conversation calls for a lot more of it. “You don’t know what I would or would not do,” Mark rebuts, holding his glass forwards for Yukhei to pour him more wine when the latter tilts his head for him to do so.

“Sure I don’t.”

Mark simmers internally because Yukhei does know him a little bit better than he’d like to admit. He’s never spoken of this personally with Yukhei at any point in time—in fact, he keeps most of his likes and dislikes private in order to uphold his professionalism, but somehow Yukhei just _knows_. But knowing is one thing and caring is a whole other thing.

Mark didn’t expect Yukhei to give a fuck about his discomfort in certain situations and to want to help remove him from those places. Although Mark undoubtedly does not need Yukhei to do him any favours—he’s a _detective_ , for God’s sake, he can handle himself—it’s unusual for Yukhei to want to do so.

Someone this self-centred shouldn’t be interested in showing Mark any form of mercy.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Mark finally asks, the weight of the wine glass in his hands feeling heavier. “You’re not… nice.”

Yukhei doesn’t say anything at first. He only purses his lips slightly, all the while still eyeing Mark, and then he takes a brief sip of wine and leans back into his chair.

Mark continues to stare him down.

“What?” Yukhei says, a smirk forming on his lips when he realises that Mark’s not going to back down until he answers his question. “Do you want me to be meaner to you then?”

He’s responding to a question with another question. Mark feels a slight buzz from downing so much wine in such a short period of time so he decides to speak his mind. If Yukhei is as observant as he’s proven to be in the last couple of months, he’ll definitely pick up on how Mark’s brain-to-mouth filter is starting to malfunction. “It’s just confusing,” Mark begins, slightly frustrated. “When you’re nice to me one second then suddenly a whole other person the next.”

Yukhei raises an eyebrow at him.

“Just choose one, you know? Be nice or don’t.”

Yukhei laughs, rolling his eyes after Mark’s done speaking. “Whatever, Mark,” he waves the topic away. “Just finish your wine.”

Mark unhappily does as he’s told, emptying his glass smoothly as he looks away from Yukhei and directs his line of vision to the view behind him. The streetlights truly are beautiful as they line the streets. All the buildings and little cars driving by are interesting as well.

Seoul’s a really big city.

Mark’s fascination with the view behind him doesn’t slip past Yukhei’s attention.

“You can come here if you want,” Yukhei offers as he downs the remainder of the wine in his glass. There’s only a little bit left in the wine bottle at this point.

Mark quietly approaches the glass panels so he can look down. He abandoned his wine glass on the table so that he could press both his palms against the cool windows. He’ll be the one wiping down any stains left on it in the morning anyway.

He doesn’t notice that Yukhei’s joined him until he speaks up. “When was the last time you came to Seoul?”

Mark turns to look up at him, slightly surprised to see him standing so close. “Uh…” Mark doesn’t know if it’ll be smart to be frank. Probably not. But he’s not in the right state of mind to be concocting believable lies right now. He’ll just be honest and think of a story to cover it up with later. “When I was 16.”

“I left when I was 16 too,” Yukhei replies, his hands buried in his pockets as he looks back outside. “But something brought me back here.”

Mark hums in agreement. He never wanted to come back to his hometown because there’s so much he left behind here—Ulsan is comfortable enough. Seoul is so messy… but it can also look so beautiful. “Sometimes I feel the same way,” Mark whispers. He’s admitting something that he probably wouldn’t say so easily if he wasn’t tipsy.

Yukhei chuckles lowly to himself. “What brought you back?” he asks, his voice softer and his tone lower now.

Mark shrugs. “Unfinished business.”

Yukhei looks back at him now and their eyes lock as Mark stares at him with an air of defiance. “Me too.”

The harsh fluorescent lighting in the office is taking away from the warm lights outside the glass, but Mark isn’t really admiring the view anymore.

Wong Yukhei might be a sadistic head of the mafia, but there’s just something about him that’s magnetic. Sometimes Mark finds himself looking at Yukhei and he just can’t stop. It almost feels impossible to tear his eyes away from this man in front of him. There are so many layers to this man, so much that’s unexplored about him—

And it doesn’t help that Yukhei is painfully attractive.

“You,” Yukhei begins quietly, but he doesn’t continue speaking. He grabs Mark’s chin, his thumb pressing just under Mark’s lower lip as he tilts Mark’s head up to look at him.

Mark doesn’t know what to say. Yukhei’s fingers are searing hot against his skin. He only has an inkling of what might happen next but he wonders if it’s just his wishful thinking. _Fuck_.

“Unfinished business,” Yukhei echoes Mark’s words from before.

Mark nods. He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol in his system that’s unravelling something that he’s been keeping pent up within him or if he’s just looking for an excuse to let loose and do something _stupid_ , something stupid like… like…

It’s impossible to think with Yukhei’s face just inches away from his.

When Mark doesn’t say anything more, Yukhei leans forward and captures his lips in a kiss.

Mark doesn’t have much time to process this before he’s kissing him back. It’s a foolish decision, sure, but Mark can’t deny that Yukhei’s a good kisser. He doesn’t have to kiss him twice to be sure about that. The angle is perfect, the pressure is just right—and Yukhei’s lips are pillowy soft against Mark’s own, providing a pleasant kind of warmth that he didn’t know he was craving.

“What are you doing?” Mark mumbles against Yukhei’s lips when he feels Yukhei’s hands snake towards the back of his thighs.

Yukhei doesn’t reply verbally as he hoists Mark up onto his body by the thighs with almost no effort, laughing into Mark’s ear when he hears him yelp in surprise.

Mark instinctively wraps his legs around Yukhei’s waist to avoid from falling down. From this angle, Mark’s on top. He’s at a taller height than Yukhei—finally—and he’s not about to let this opportunity go to waste. Mark leans down, sucking on Yukhei’s bottom lip as he kisses him again.

There’s a faint hint of the Cabernet on Yukhei’s lips, but Mark supposes that the taste of alcohol is stronger on his end. He practically inhaled two thirds of the bottle earlier.

The kiss is messy and slightly sloppy but Mark doesn’t have time to think—there’s just Yukhei on his mind because _oh fuck, he’s kissing the one person he shouldn’t kiss_. But at the same time it’s also kind of thrilling in a way where Mark knows that this is a form of a challenge.

And he doesn’t back down from challenges.

“Yukhei,” Mark says against Yukhei’s lips as he grabs fistfuls of Yukhei’s hair to guide his head away. He pants lightly as he stares down at Yukhei’s face.

“Did I say you could say my name?” Yukhei asks, his plump lips red and swollen courtesy of Mark. It’s really attractive.

Mark tugs harder on Yukhei’s hair. “You’re trying to stick your tongue down my throat and you won’t let me call your name?”

Yukhei’s digs his fingers deeper into where he’s gripping onto Mark’s thighs. “It’s ‘boss’ to you.”

Mark wants to argue, but a piercing shriek from the entrance to Yukhei’s office surprises the both of them enough to interrupt their moment. Mark whips his head over to see Chenle, mouth open wide and his eyes threatening to bulge out of their sockets.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Chenle yells.

This is something of a wake up call for Mark as he squirms out of Yukhei’s hold. When Yukhei lowers him onto the ground, he readjusts his tie and smooths down his shirt hurriedly. “I… I have to go,” Mark quickly says, suddenly realising exactly what he just did.

Chenle is right. _What the fuck_.

“Mark—” Yukhei calls just as Mark pushes past him to get to the door. Mark can already feel him rolling his eyes at Chenle behind him.

Chenle is doubling over in laughter by now and Mark easily gets past him to leave. “I was not expecting that!” he laughs, not stalling Mark at the door.

Mark can only silently agree that he did not expect that either.

He’s got a lot to explain to himself.

 

* * *

 

Mark tells Taeyong about what happened. At least, he tells Taeyong what happened _partially_. Mark is an honest man but he’s also a smart man—he knows what will happen if he admits openly to whatever it is that happened between Yukhei and him. So he tells the truth, more or less. Omitting certain details doesn’t exactly equal to lying.

“It’s getting difficult for me to work under these conditions,” Mark admits to Taeyong. “It’s been months since I got to know these guys and I’m worried that my judgement as a law enforcement officer is getting clouded by my personal attachments to them.”

It’s a gracious way of Mark admitting defeat to this operation. He’s not the kind of person who gives up just like that, but he also knows where his abilities lie.

He knows that he’s starting to develop actual attachments to the guys here at Vision.

“Minhyung,” Taeyong sounds slightly perplexed through the phone. “How long have you been in the force? Five or six years?”

“Six, sir,” Mark replies.

“And in that time I’m sure that you’ve faced some challenges.”

Mark stares at the detective badge lying in his drawer. He’s waited years to be able to own something like this. “Yes, sir, but not on this level.”

“I’m not ashamed to tell you that I was once an undercover agent,” Taeyong says. “I understand how you feel about becoming emotionally attached to these people... I’m willing to share my experiences with you another day, but it’s a conversation that we might have to have in person.”

“I understand, sir, but—”

Taeyong sighs into the receiver, interrupting Mark’s trail of thought. “Minhyung, in this line of work, nothing is easy,” he states. “You have to give something up in order to get something back. It’s the law of the universe—you reap what you sow, and at the end of the day that means having to put something in first.”

Mark doesn’t quite understand what Taeyong is saying to him, but he silently considers it anyway. “Yes, sir.”

“Giving up is not an option right now, Detective Lee. You have to persevere. I know you idolise Detective Jung, but there’s a reason why Jaehyun is holding his position today. You must’ve heard the rumours about him.”

“Yes, sir.” Mark’s heard enough about Jung Jaehyun to know that although he’s one of the top detectives in the field currently, his motivations stem from competitiveness. Jaehyun is encouraged by the thought of winning. He pushes himself to the limit for the sake of coming out on top at the end of the day. And that spirit has paid off. “He’s very… driven.”

“Exactly,” Taeyong agrees. “This operation at Vision will be very vital to your credentials. Do it well and it can mean an instant promotion. Up a few ranks, even.”

“But if it goes bust…”

Taeyong laughs humourlessly. “Don’t be pessimistic, Minhyung.”

Mark sighs. There’s no way that he’s getting out of this now.

 

Mark is content with not mentioning whatever happened that night in this very office. It’s easy at first because he’s the only one in the place. He’s the first one to arrive, as per usual, and he does the tidying up and chores as he should.

Yukhei took the liberty of leaving the wine glasses in the sink but he didn’t do much else. The glasses are still stained with fingerprints and there’s residual wine in both of them. He didn’t bother to throw away the rest of the wine in the bottle either, so it’s been airing out for the whole night on his office desk, permeating the room with a funky odour.

Mark turns on the air diffuser and hopes for the best.

Well, it all comes rushing back to Mark when Yukhei saunters into the room like he owns the place. Okay, maybe he does own the place. Mark sighs.

“You’re early,” Yukhei comments, circling Mark’s person curiously as Mark keeps his feet firmly planted on the ground. “Did you leave something behind?”

Mark glances outside to see that Chenle is looking at them inquisitively as the rest of the guys continue hurrying about their day. It seems like Chenle has either been sworn to secrecy by Yukhei or he just has very tight lips. Mark hopes it’s the latter. “No,” Mark replies, feigning ignorance when Yukhei comes to stand in front of him.

Yukhei sits back on his desk slightly, shrugging. “Then why’d you come here at 7.30 in the morning?”

Mark looks at him pointedly. “I come every morning at 7.30.”

“Isn’t that a little bit too early to be indulging in your sins?”

Mark lets the double entendre sink in. “You’re despicable.”

Yukhei guffaws, looking a bit too perky for a normal person—moreover _him_ —at 9AM. He gestures for Mark to come closer. “I want my smokes,” he explains when he notices Mark’s questioning expression. “I haven’t smoked all day.”

“Your day’s just beginning so holding out ‘all day’ really isn’t that impressive,” Mark points out, but he approaches Yukhei anyway. He pulls out the box of cigarettes from his pocket right as Yukhei reaches over to put his hand into his pocket. “I got it.”

Yukhei smirks and takes the pack from his outstretched hand. “You want one?” he asks. It’s the first time that Yukhei’s invited Mark to smoke with him.

“No. And you should probably cut back on smoking. Lung cancer.”

Yukhei scoffs in disbelief as he swipes a lighter from the top of his desk to light the cigarette he’s put between his lips. “Fat chance that I’m going to let cancer kill me,” he says. “If someone wants me dead they’re going to have to kill me themselves.”

“You don’t get to choose if cancer kills you.”

Yukhei ignores Mark as he stuffs the box of cigarettes into Mark’s back pocket, patting the box a few times—Mark belatedly realises that he’s patting Mark’s _bottom_ —as he smiles. “Yes I do,” he haughtily insists. “I’m Wong Yukhei. Anyway, I don’t even smoke that much.”

Mark swats Yukhei’s hand away from his backside, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment for letting Yukhei do that. “You smoke half a pack on a good day,” Mark snaps. “Also, about last night—”

Yukhei interjects before he can complete his sentence. “I take three puffs from each cigarette. That’s equivalent to taking three deep breaths of Beijing air. I’ll live.”

“As I was saying, last night—” Mark tries again, but he stops talking when Yukhei holds up a hand to his face.

“What about last night?” Yukhei asks. There’s an unverbalised challenge in his tone. Mark can’t pinpoint what the challenge is, but he knows that he’ll come off as pathetic if he were to explain what he means now. Yukhei’s playing a mind game here. “Right, let’s hear it. What about last night?”

Mark gapes at him for a few seconds, taking in Yukhei’s cocky grin and the arch to his eyebrow as he continues staring at Mark amusedly. Mark hates himself for still finding Yukhei attractive even without the alcohol clouding his judgement. He must be a sick masochist for letting himself fall for whatever charm this man standing in front of him wields.

Yukhei doesn’t back down. “Spit it out, kitten.”

“Nothing,” Mark finally responds, wincing as he recalls Yukhei calling him “kitten”. “And don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, just thought it was fitting because you look like you have these little whiskers right here when you frown…” Yukhei points towards one of Mark’s cheeks with his index finger. His face falls when Mark purses his lips. “Don’t do that, now the whiskers are gone.”

Mark steps backwards to put some distance between the two of them. “Don’t you have work to do?” Mark asks, changing the subject swiftly. “Madam Cheung’s PA called earlier saying that she wants to talk to you later today.”

Yukhei changes his expression into a serious one. “Really? What time does she want to talk?”

Mark shrugs. “She didn’t give me a time. She just said to expect a call later.”

Yukhei nods, waving Mark away. “Alright,” he huffs, standing up straight as he makes his way to sit in his swivel chair. “Tell Kunhang to come in.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.”

Thanks? Yukhei _never_ says thanks. Mark scrutinises Yukhei as he settles into his seat.

Yukhei looks back at him. “What?” Yukhei remarks, obviously unbothered by what he just let slip through his lips. “Do you want something?”

Mark considers for a moment if Yukhei is dying of a chronic disease.

“Are you waiting for a kiss or something?”

Mark quickly shakes his head. “No!” he vehemently denies, taking two steps back towards the door. “I just want to know how you’ll be having your coffee this morning.”

Yukhei considers this for a while. “A shot of espresso will be enough,” he answers. “Thanks.”

Thanks again. Mark holds back his tongue, forcing himself to nod passively as he makes a run for the pantry.

“What’s up with you two?” Chenle asks as Mark dashes past him into the kitchenette to run the espresso machine. “First yesterday night, now _this_ … the sexual tension is palpable.”

Mark flicks Chenle’s on the forehead forcefully. “Shut up, kindergartener,” he scolds. “What happened after I left last night? Did he walk into a lamppost and hit his head or something? He’s acting weird this morning.”

“Who? Xuxi _gē_?” Chenle shrugs. “I wouldn’t fucking know… you’re the one who kissed him, Medusa.”

“Stop talking about the kiss!” Mark hisses, careful to keep his voice low so no one else can overhear them. His efforts are in vain because Dejun pokes his head into the pantry not two seconds later.

“What kiss?” he asks, intrigued.

Mark glares at Chenle, daring the man to say one word.

“Nothing,” Chenle obediently replies. “I just saw Xuxi _gē_ kissing his new squeeze last night and Mark’s trying to keep me hush about it.”

Dejun nods in understanding. “Don’t worry, Mark,” he says. “Xuxi doesn’t care about us gossiping about his love life. None of them last very long anyway.”

Mark laughs humourlessly. “It’s just weird discussing the boss’ personal affairs, no?” he supplies, taking Yukhei’s mug out of the cupboard. “I just wish Chenle would leave me alone about it. I don’t know anything about boss’ romantic conquests.”

Chenle snorts loudly. “Sure thing, Markie. I’ll leave it... for now.”

Mark wishes he could spontaneously combust.

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t take a detective to notice that Yukhei begins to treat Mark slightly differently after that night. Maybe _different_ isn’t the proper word for it, because he still does things that he’s always been doing since the first day Mark started at Vision. His actions have just become more exaggerated.

For example, Yukhei used to keep his cigarettes in Mark’s left pocket, but nowadays he puts them in Mark’s _back_ pocket—the left or the right, he doesn’t care. Yukhei will slip the box back into Mark’s back pocket and give his bottom two light taps like it’s _normal_. Mark hissed at him not to do that anymore but Yukhei then asked if Mark would rather that he make _Mark_ pat his own butt himself so Mark eventually relented.

Yukhei’s always expressed that he believes he has some sort of ownership over Mark—for the lack of a more appropriate term—and it’s only become more amplified in the recent weeks. Every time one of their clients as much as _looks_ at Mark for longer than a second, Yukhei would clear his throat loudly and make a veiled threat regarding people trying to touch what’s his.

It’s made meetings very awkward for everyone involved. Especially the guys who weren’t in the know regarding that incident between Mark and Yukhei, so namely everyone except for Chenle. It’s become a topic of interest among the guys here in Vision, but Mark’s managed to tone down the gossip by making lame excuses and pinching Chenle whenever he needs someone to support him.

Among his favourite modes of deflection is playing the “Yukhei mistreats me” card. “He thinks he owns me the way he owns a car,” Mark would lament when he’s out of Yukhei’s earshot. “It’s so fucking degrading. I’m not something that he can just _own_.”

Kunhang, arguably one of the more empathetic personalities in the office, will nod in understanding. “Don’t let it get to you,” he once said. “I’m sure Xuxi means it in a more positive way! He’s just looking out for you, that’s all.”

A strange, twisted bit of Mark understands that there’s some truth to Kunhang’s words. Yukhei doesn’t mean to be malicious whenever he throws around terms like “mine” or “my property” when referring to Mark. There’s just a possibility that—Mark doesn’t want to get ahead of himself now by thinking this—Yukhei might think of him in a way that he _shouldn’t_.

A way that’s not entirely professional.

Oddly enough, Mark’s not bothered by it. Not too much, anyway.

Mark’s found himself wanting to bash his head into a wall because of how he actually finds this sort of thrilling. He’s always been a fan of the concept of push and pull, and having Yukhei make odd demands of him and him gaining the upper hand by saying no? That’s honestly kind of fun.

Fuck, Mark already told Taeyong that he wouldn’t be able to do this.

His motivations have since slipped from wanting to push Yukhei down from whatever throne he’s ruling on to pushing Yukhei’s buttons in the right order just to see him crack. Mark doesn’t even know where his allegiances lie anymore. The longer he spends in Vision’s godforsaken headquarters, the more he finds himself being drawn to the people that inhabit it.

It’s becoming harder and harder to deny Mark’s attraction to Yukhei.

Especially when that fucker is that enigmatic and downright infuriating. Mark loves a good challenge and Yukhei is just a human version of one. It’s only a matter of time before Mark botches his own operation by going rogue and just doing whatever he wants.

But isn’t he already?

 

They’re at a meeting with Yuta and a Japanese businessman when things go south. One moment Mark’s just randomly chatting with one of the men and Mark’s about to receive the glass of scotch passed to him when the next moment—the glass goes tumbling onto the carpeted floor.

And it’s all thanks to Yukhei clumsily bumping into him.

“Boss,” Mark half-hisses and half-groans at the loss of the drink in his hand. “Sorry,” he adds to the man in front of him, who only gives him a small strained smile in return. “Butter fingers.”

Yukhei drags him away by the sleeve of his shirt after that out into the hallway of the country club they’re in. He doesn’t look too happy. His eyebrows are knit together in disapproval and his has an iron grip on Mark’s sleeve.

“Hey… hey!” Mark complains as Yukhei tows him out like a rag doll. “What is up with you?”

Yukhei releases his hold on him when they’re alone. “Watch out for yourself,” he scolds, staring Mark down as Mark casually leans against the wall of the walkway. “It’s not safe in there.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re the one who brought me here.”

Yukhei sighs, holding out the palm of his hand to wordlessly ask for his cigarettes. He looks stressed.

Mark passes the box to him and crosses his arms after. “Are you losing your mind because you don’t speak Japanese and can’t gauge the situation?” Mark asks after Yukhei’s lit the cigarette between his fingers and has taken a drag.

Yukhei laughs dryly, reaching a long arm over to Mark’s form to put his cigarette box back. When Mark doesn’t move from the wall to let him stuff it into the back pocket of his trousers, Yukhei produces a low growl at the back of his throat as he slips it into the front pocket. “You’re getting awfully bratty now that I’m showing you a bit of favour,” Yukhei remarks.

“Favour?” Now it’s Mark’s turn to laugh. “What are you talking about?”

Yukhei looks away and blows a perfect smoke ring that floats away from them. “Don’t act coy,” Yukhei says, a wry smile curling on his lips. “I give you an inch and you take a mile. You know you’re not like the rest.”

Mark stares at Yukhei for a while before the man looks back at him. He raises an eyebrow. “Different… in what way?” he asks, clicking his tongue after. He doesn’t know when he found the nerve to start speaking to Yukhei like that but he knows that Yukhei’s right—he’s not wary of Yukhei’s wrath anymore. He hasn’t been worried for quite some time.

Yukhei’s smirk lingers as he curls his fingers around Mark’s tie, pulling Mark towards him in one swift motion.

Mark almost loses his balance and he finds purchase in the lapels of Yukhei’s coat, gripping the fabric tightly as he finds his footing to avoid crashing into Yukhei entirely. “Hey!”

Yukhei chuckles as he tilts Mark’s face upwards by the chin with his free hand, the cigarette strategically held so it doesn’t come into contact with Mark’s skin. “Don’t do this with me, Mark,” he says, and there’s an underlying sense of warning to his tone. “You know what you’re doing and you know it’s not going to end well. I’m not your average player.”

Mark pushes himself off of Yukhei’s chest with both his hands, watching as his tie slips from Yukhei’s grip as he steps back from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but you do.”

Mark does. “Even if I did, am I supposed to just sit here and let you do whatever you want? You don’t _own_ me.”

Yukhei sighs dramatically, eyeing a counter nearby. He approaches it slowly and extinguishes his cigarette against the countertop before throwing the butt into the potted decorative plant to Mark’s dismay.

“That’s going to cause a fire,” Mark states. “And it’s littering.”

“Who’s going to get me? The police?” Yukhei laughs.

Mark stills momentarily before shaking his head. “No,” he begrudgingly admits.

There’s a glimmer of amusement in Yukhei’s eyes. “I took two puffs,” Yukhei announces, sounding pleased with himself. “If I can take two puffs and protect myself from lung cancer, you can start being more observant so you can look after yourself.”

Mark doesn’t know what Yukhei’s talking about. So he tells him exactly that.

“Just…” Yukhei trails off, staring up at the ceiling. He looks back down at Mark after. “Be more vigilant, kitty. The world’s a scary place.”

“Yuta’s associate wouldn’t have roofied my drink in front of everyone,” Mark chooses to be frank. “If that’s what you’re saying I should’ve looked out for, I did. When have I ever stepped out of line?”

Yukhei runs a hand through his hair as he proceeds to walk past Mark, bumping into his shoulder without care. “I’m not talking about roofies,” Yukhei snorts. “That’s the least of your problems. I don’t know, just don’t get drunk in front of other people when you don’t know their intentions.”

Now it’s Mark’s turn to scoff. He doesn’t get the final say as Yukhei reenters the room, leaving him to idly stand outside as he contemplates his next move.

It’s laughable that Yukhei thinks he has to protect Mark from the horrors of the world as if Mark hasn’t seen worse. Mark got his black belt in Taekwondo before he even turned 13, he graduated top of his class in the police academy, and his dad— He doesn’t talk about his dad.

Mark sighs. This is stupid.

He doesn’t know what else to do with himself, so he just goes back into the room, ignoring the incredulous expression painted on Sicheng’s face when he trudges past him.

Everyone needs to stop looking at him like that whenever Yukhei pulls him aside privately. Even he doesn’t know why Yukhei does it so they’re not going to get a proper answer.

 

* * *

 

Mark is pushed to address this issue the week after, not by his own accord because he doesn’t see it as an _issue_ , just something annoying. Chenle is the mastermind behind that plan, incepting Mark over the duration of a week that he has to confront Yukhei about professionalism and boundaries. Chenle isn’t wrong per se, but Mark’s learnt to push Yukhei’s antics aside to focus on other aspects of his job so he doesn’t see whatever this is between them as something bothersome.

It makes snooping around in Yukhei’s business a little bit easier, too. Yukhei entrusts documents into Mark’s hands now, but so far there hasn’t been anything that’s out of the ordinary.

Chenle is more convincing than he seems, however, because soon the nagging thought in Mark’s head that he shouldn’t be so blasé about Yukhei treating him like—Mark’s still struggling to decide where they stand currently so he can’t find a word for it— _this_.

All it takes is for Yukhei to wave Mark over for his cigarettes as per usual at the end of the week and Mark is suddenly snapping at him.

“Is this really necessary?” Mark asks, interrupting Yukhei mid-sentence as he’s saying something to Kun across the office table. He indicates towards his behind.

They both look down at Yukhei’s hand which has been stuffed into the back pocket of Mark’s pants for the last minute or two as he continues to clarify something with Kun. Yukhei removes his hand and his box of cigarettes then he tilts his head to one side as he glances up at Mark. There’s no inclination of remorse on his face as he blinks innocently at Mark.

Kun, on the other hand, is trying to stifle his laughter with the back of his hand.

“What?” Yukhei retorts, indifferent about the whole situation. He shakes a cigarette out of the box and throws the rest of it at Kun, who catches it. “Am I going to have to take you to dinner first?”

Kun laughs lightly once more, setting Yukhei’s cigarettes down onto the table.

Mark can only narrow his eyes at Yukhei to direct the dirtiest look he can his way. “I’m just saying,” Mark starts, crossing his arms in a show of defiance. “It’s not necessary for you to grab your smokes yourself this way. I can reach into my pocket and give them to you just fine.”

Yukhei shrugs. He doesn’t look like he cares. “I’m trying to make your job easier,” he states, as if he’s performing an act that confers major convenience to Mark. “Okay, I’ll take you to dinner.”

“That’s not what I said—”

Yukhei wiggles a finger in front of Mark’s face, shushing him. “I’ll take care of you,” he insists, tapping his unlit cigarette onto the table as he speaks. “I’ll take you on that stupid date if you want.”

“I don’t want to go on a date with you,” Mark argues, wondering if everything he’s saying is just going into one of Yukhei’s ears then out the other. “What I want is for you to stop putting your hand down my pockets like it’s your territory.”

Yukhei quirks an eyebrow. “Isn’t it, though?”

Kun snorts loudly. “I appreciate this banter, but I don’t think you should date,” he says levelheadedly.

“I kind of like putting my hand down his pants,” Yukhei remarks, smirking at Mark to irk him before turning back to look at Kun. “I’ll date him if that’s what it’ll take.”

Mark sighs resignedly, shooting Kun a wordless plea with his eyes but Kun doesn’t see it. “I’m telling you that’s not what I—”

Yukhei shushes him again by shooing him out the room with his hands this time. “Get out, Mark,” he says with finality, the previously playful mood returning to a more professional one. “I’ve got a lot to talk about with Kun and you’re just being a distraction.”

Mark gapes at Yukhei for a few seconds before he rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” Just before Mark steps out of the office, Yukhei clears his throat loudly, making Mark stop in his tracks.

“Tomorrow, at six.” He reverts to Mandarin as he resumes his discussion with Kun, putting an end to the argument with Mark.

Mark scoffs, pretending that he doesn’t know what Yukhei is referring to although he knows what he means. He walks out without turning back.

 

The date seemingly gets called off when Yukhei announces that he’ll be leaving to attend to a business meeting at 4PM. He strides out of his office with Sicheng in tow, and Sicheng only raises his eyebrow at Mark with a smirk when he walks past. Yukhei doesn’t bother sparing Mark a single glance.

Mark doesn’t know what that means, but he gets the rest of the day off because Kun lets him leave so he doesn’t bother to complain.

He wasn’t looking forward to anything, of course, especially since he spent the last night tossing and turning in bed in fear that he’d be violating some kind of protocol by letting Yukhei string him around that way. But is this what Taeyong meant when he said “any means possible”? Will Mark have to sell his soul to the devil just for a stupid promotion?

Mark ponders that on his journey home after a stop at the neighbourhood grocer. However, when he slams the door behind himself after toeing his shoes off by the rack, he hears his phone buzz with a call.

It’s from Yukhei.

“What do you want?” Mark asks the moment he picks the call up. There’s a short pause on the other end before Yukhei lets out a dry laugh.

“It’s ‘What do you want, _boss_?’ to you.”

Mark sighs. He doesn’t say anything in reply, waiting for Yukhei to speak his mind. A minute passes and no one talks. Does Yukhei really want him to repeat himself with the addition of “boss” to his sentence? Because if that’s what he wants, he’s not going to get it.

Another minute passes.

“If we’re not going to talk then I think it’s best that one of us hangs up. This is a waste of resources,” Mark gently supplies after the silence becomes too much. “I’m a big environmental guy, so if you don’t mind...”

“You really don’t know your place, do you?” Yukhei says, and Mark can already picture the look on his face just based on his tone—a cocky grin etched on his lips without a doubt and his eyes gazing straight at whatever’s in front of him. “But that’s okay. I don’t mind putting you where you belong.”

Mark groans inwardly. He’s had enough of these taunts that err on the side of being seductive. “I highly doubt that you’ll succeed,” Mark retorts, still stubbornly insisting to defy Yukhei’s unreasonable non-request.

“Fortunately for you, I’m a gentleman, so I’ll let this slide for now,” Yukhei replies, and Mark hears the telltale noise of him tapping his nail against a surface. “Anyway, I’m giving you five minutes to show your face.”

“What?”

“You have five minutes to drag your ass downstairs to the entrance of your apartment. Four minutes and 50 seconds now.”

“But I just got home!” Mark argues, glancing at the clock in the corner of his living room. The short hand is pointing at five and the long hand at 11.

Yukhei huffs from the other side of the line. “I don’t care. I said six yesterday. It’s... four minutes to six now.”

“That’s not fair! You had a meeting and I assumed—”

“And you were wrong. This will teach you never to assume again, I hope,” Yukhei interjects to say. “I’m a benevolent ruler. I’ll give you a leeway of… five minutes? You better be down here before 6.05. As a ‘big environmental guy’ I don’t think you’ll like knowing how much carbon my car produces a minute.”

Mark tries to form a witty argument in his head but Yukhei hangs up before he can reclaim his dignity. He sneaks a peek at the clock before he rushes into the kitchen, his grocery bags in hand. He haphazardly loads the chilled and frozen products into the refrigerator before bounding into his bedroom to change his clothes.

What the hell should he even wear? Yukhei didn’t specify where they’ll be going. Is he supposed to dress casual, smart casual, or formal? Does it even matter what Mark chooses to wear?

Mark opts for a large hoodie over a pair of jeans, slipping out of his old clothes and into his chosen outfit so quickly that he thinks he might have broken a world record.

By the time he rushes down to the lobby of his apartment complex, he sees Yukhei leaning against the body of his car, a lit cigarette held between his fingers. Yukhei’s hair is slicked back, as per usual, and he has a pair of sunglasses perched onto the bridge of his nose. His outfit, however, stands out the most. He’s in a hot pink suit, probably from a luxury brand.

Yukhei doesn’t look terrible, but he certainly stands out. He reminds Mark of a bright pink highlighter, a stark contrast to the black body of his BMW.

Mark doesn’t really know what to say when Yukhei takes off his sunglasses and gives him _that look_. He only stands at the entrance of his apartment complex, stupidly gaping at the view in front of him.

Yukhei quirks a finger in his direction, beckoning Mark over to him. “You should just take a picture of me instead of staring like an idiot,” he states, obviously basking in the attention. “It’ll probably last longer. I’ll even pose for you.”

Mark shakes his head quickly to reorientate himself. “With all due respect—what are you wearing?” he asks, the puzzlement coming off his words in waves as he takes tentative steps forward. “That’s… that’s not your real outfit, is it?”

Yukhei shrugs. “What’s wrong with it? Sicheng picked it out for me,” he says, walking over to the driver’s side of his car. “Anyway, get in. We can discuss your poor taste in fashion in the car.”

Mark is still confused as to what they’ll be doing for the rest of the day but he complies, slipping into the passenger’s seat of the BMW and leaning back against the smooth leather of the seat. It’s quiet when Yukhei slams his car door closed and straps himself into his seat. Mark follows suit, putting on his seatbelt with clumsy fingers as he tries not to sneak a glance in Yukhei’s way.

He fails.

As Mark’s eyes land on Yukhei’s extremely bright form, he can’t bring himself to look away.

“Where do you want to go?” Yukhei asks, resting on hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gearstick.

“What?”

Yukhei begins tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and the noise of his nails meeting the surface is the same sound Mark heard earlier on the phone. “I asked where you wanted to go,” Yukhei repeats himself, his expression bored as he turns to look at Mark. He still looks effortlessly handsome like this.

If this isn’t proof that God plays favourites, Mark doesn’t know what is.

Yukhei cocks an eyebrow as he waits for Mark’s response, his fingers still tapping out an unidentified rhythm.

“I don’t know,” Mark replies, feeling his face flush slightly from embarrassment because of how intensely Yukhei’s gaze is trained on him. Fuck his weakness for attractive people. “You’re the one who told me to come out here and you’re asking _me_ where I want to go? I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Then I’ll rephrase,” Yukhei sighs, rolling his eyes. “What do you like to do when you’re… dressed like that?” Yukhei gestures towards Mark’s clothing, visibly considering what they can do when one of them is dressed like he’s ready for a catwalk and the other one’s in an oversized hoodie.

Mark looks out the window, trying to recall how he managed to get to this point of his life. He’s stuck in a car with a gangster who inexplicably will not leave him alone.

They sit in silence for the next few minutes until Mark realises that Yukhei is almost as stubborn as he is. They’ll probably end up staying like this for the next hour if they both refuse to back down and make a concrete plan.

Mark sighs, knowing that he’ll have to take a step back if he wants to make sure this ends as quickly as possible. “The arcade,” he says quietly after much contemplation. He’s in comfortable attire and he managed to spy an advertisement for a place downtown on one of the pillars not too far away from where the car is parked.

“An arcade?” Yukhei asks. He sounds confused.

Mark nods. “You know, those places with lots of video games,” he explains half-heartedly. “I’m sure you know the kind.”

Yukhei blinks at him with a blank expression for a few seconds before shrugging. “Oh, sure,” he mutters. “Whatever. Just show me the way.”

Mark takes his phone out to key in the details into a navigation application, but he doesn’t miss how Yukhei’s still trying to piece together what an arcade looks like. So there really are people out there who’ve never lived a proper teenage life. It’s difficult to believe, but looking at Yukhei and the way he lives, it’s not too much of a surprise that he missed out on the mundane activities that came with growing up.

Mark can imagine that Yukhei was homeschooled by a private tutor throughout his formative years and ended up going through a rebellious phase at 15. He probably learnt how to fight then, judging by the faint little scars that Mark can see on his knuckles. It’s not difficult to write a backstory for this man.

Mark directs Yukhei with as little words as possible and they drive in relative silence save for the faint melody of a pop song coming from the speakers. Thankfully the drive doesn’t take too long, but given that they’re in a congested part of the city frequented by young university students, there doesn’t leave much space for parking.

“I’m going to park there,” Yukhei announces after getting tired of looking for a parking lot. He drives towards the space by the sidewalk right outside the arcade.

“You can’t,” Mark argues. “You’re going to get a parking ticket!”

“Do I look like I can’t afford to pay for a parking ticket?”

Mark crosses his arms to glare at Yukhei. “Or worse, you might get towed,” he replies, shaking his head. “Just park somewhere further and we’ll walk. There are other things to do on the way.”

Yukhei clicks his tongue in annoyance but he swerves from the pavement anyway, muttering something under his breath.

He’s obviously not the most patient person.

They eventually find an area to park the car and Yukhei leaves his keys to the valet driver before sauntering away with his usual swagger.

Mark is left to tail Yukhei like a lost puppy because he doesn’t know how else they should walk. He didn’t ask for any of this and each new interaction brings about another wave of struggles for him. Yukhei’s steps are much wider granted that he has legs that stretch on for miles and Mark has to take two quick steps for every step Yukhei takes just to keep up with him.

Yukhei eventually realises this once they’re at the entrance to the busy street. He doesn’t pay any heed to the people who whisper about him in hushed tones and he stops in the middle of the street to look back at Mark.

Mark doesn’t notice him stopping and bumps straight into his chest before hurriedly stepping back to see Yukhei lift an eyebrow questioningly at him. “Sorry,” Mark mutters insincerely. “Go on.”

Yukhei’s sunglasses are dangling from the collar of his white shirt beneath his hot pink blazer. He doesn’t continue walking ahead and instead reaches to grab Mark by the forearm. His fingers manage to grasp Mark’s bicep despite Mark’s rapid reflexes at avoiding his hold. He smirks. “At least try to keep up,” he rolls his eyes.

“I _am_ keeping up!” Mark says, all too sensitive towards the chatter he hears coming from the onlookers around them.

He can hear the poorly muffled squeals coming from the young schoolgirls. They enthuse among themselves about how handsome Yukhei is—how tall and how long his legs are. There are actual groups of people gathered around them like their exchange is a whole performance. This, however, doesn’t faze Yukhei at all.

Mark can only swallow his pride as Yukhei drags him along on the street, albeit at a speed that’s slightly slower than the way he was walking before.

They don’t have to squeeze between people on the street as they immediately part to leave an empty space for Yukhei to walk through. The fact that he towers over every other person on the street probably contributes to his intimidation factor, but Mark would’ve thought that his hot pink suit would take away from it all. He guesses not.

“Left or right?” Yukhei turns to ask Mark.

Mark was only passively being pulled along so he didn’t bother to register their exact location, but he takes a quick look around and deduces that they should make a left turn ahead. “Left.”

“Do you come here often?” Yukhei questions when they finally get to the entrance of the arcade. There are a few groups of friends already crowding some of the machines. Yukhei takes a broad sweep of the entire place.

“Not really,” Mark admits, shrugging. “I used to when I was a kid. It’s been years since I’ve been to an arcade.”

Yukhei purses his lips. “I’ve never been to one.” His tone is neutral but Mark detects the underlying presence of something that sounds like regret.

It’s funny to think that someone like Yukhei would feel regret about missing out on something this childish. Mark assumed that he would’ve found going to an arcade pointless. But apparently not.

There really is more to this man than meets the eye.

Mark takes this opportunity to wiggle his arm out of Yukhei’s hold. He walks ahead, bumping shoulders with Yukhei lightly as he approaches the racing games. “Then what are you waiting for?” Mark shouts back at him past the blaring rock music. “Let’s go!”

 

Yukhei isn’t very good at many of the games. The graphics to the racing games don’t impress him and he refuses to move when Mark forces him onto one of the dance machines, so there’s nothing much for them to do other than play an odd shooting game.

Yukhei has a precise aim when it comes to the virtual shooting games and he can score full marks for headshot after headshot, but his precision is nothing compared to Mark’s swift movements so Mark ends up scoring more than him on several rounds. They try out game after game and Mark continues to win round after round.

Yukhei isn’t satisfied with that outcome because he doesn’t think shooting blindly and non-fatally is a good strategy. He prefers to be quick with ending his victims’ suffering—a shot to the head and they’re down. That’s the way things should be, he says.

“This is a _game_ ,” Mark reminds him, holding back a bubble of laughter that rises to his throat because he can see the faint hint of a pout hanging on Yukhei’s lips. “It’s not like real life. You don’t have to be humane with in-game zombies.”

Yukhei rolls his eyes in distaste. “That’s unrealistic,” he mutters, placing the large rifle back into its holder.

“Okay, let’s go now,” Mark says, putting his rifle down as well. He looks around them to see the young teenagers snacking on street food with paper cups of Coke in their hands. He’s hungry. “It’s getting late.”

Yukhei shakes his head. There’s a childish defiance in that action as he crosses his arms. “No,” he states sternly. “I’m not leaving until we find a game that actually reflects a real attack strategy. I didn’t finish reading The Art of War to be let down like this.”

In other words, Yukhei just wants to win.

Mark sighs, letting his eyes land on a game where they’re supposed to shoot at targets. Yukhei would be good at that.

“Let’s try that one,” he points towards it, tugging Yukhei with him as he walks in that direction. He pulls at the sleeve of Yukhei’s suit jacket. “One last round. We leave after this, okay?”

Yukhei studies Mark’s face for a moment before shrugging. “Maybe.”

Mark doesn’t bother to decipher his half-assed promise and slides in the tokens required to play the game. He watches as Yukhei picks up the plastic pistol, cocking it and aiming at the screen immediately.

There’s no doubt that there’s a flair of confidence to that motion. Yukhei makes it look effortless. Handling a gun looks like an art form under his fingers unlike the usual practiced manoeuvres that Mark was trained with back at the police academy.

Yukhei shoots. He pulls the trigger once, twice, then thrice. He hits the centre of his targets each time, scoring a high amount of points without breaking a sweat. He seems pleased with himself after he’s done, lazily smirking as he passes the pistol to Mark.

Mark stares at him, wide-eyed. “What?” Mark asks.

“Your turn,” Yukhei says.

Mark huffs in annoyance. He wasn’t expecting to have to play. He slots a few tokens into the machine before doing what he has to do. He hits every target at first before realising that he’s doing a little bit too well.

Yukhei’s pride is going to be wounded again if he doesn’t win at this game.

And that means that Mark won’t be able to leave.

Also, Yukhei is going to pout like a big baby and throw a passive-aggressive form of a tantrum again.

Mark swallows, purposefully tilting his gun to one side as he shoots, finally missing the centre just by a few centimetres. That should do it. His score is going to be lower than Yukhei’s now.

When he’s finally done with his round, his score is exactly three points lower than Yukhei’s. He puts on a façade of nonchalance, putting the gun down and turning to Yukhei.

Yukhei has a small lopsided grin on his face as he takes in the score and his ultimate victory.

Mark tries to bury his own pride, knowing that it’s never been easy for him to lose at something that he’s good at. And he’s very good at handling a gun. “Can we go yet?” he asks. Mark is only doing this so he can end whatever this entire _thing_ (Is it a date? Is it a meeting?) is earlier and not because he doesn’t want Yukhei to be disappointed.

Yukhei considers this for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” he agrees.

Mark pushes past him to walk ahead, but he doesn’t get very far before he hears Yukhei speak again.

“By the way, I know you let me win.”

Mark turns to look behind him mid-step. He narrows his eyes at Yukhei, but the latter gently pushes him aside as he overtakes him.

“You’re not a very good actor,” Yukhei simply says, his long fingers wrapping themselves around Mark’s wrist as he pulls him along.

 

Mark finds himself seated on a bench in a quiet area of a park with a steaming paper cup of _ddeokbokki_ in his lap not too long after they left the arcade. They bought food from the street vendors on the way and somehow even got some snacks for free because the vendors assumed that Yukhei was a celebrity based on the way he’s dressed.

It’s ridiculous, but at least Mark got free food from that harrowing experience.

Yukhei has his own serving of _ddeokbokki_ in his hand and he pokes at the rice cakes lazily with the short toothpick he was given. Has he ever had street food before?

Mark doesn’t get to ask the question before Yukhei interrupts his trail of thought.

“Feed me,” Yukhei says from beside Mark. He moves closer towards Mark across the bench and he doesn’t let Mark scoot away as he holds Mark’s thigh in place.

Mark is practically at the end of the bench anyway so there really isn’t anywhere he can run. “No,” Mark states flatly, squinting his eyes at Yukhei in distaste. “You’re a grown man with perfectly functional hands. Feed yourself.”

Yukhei glares at Mark menacingly as Mark chews on a slice of fishcake. “Feed me,” he says again, this time with authority bleeding into his tone.

Mark continues chewing. He looks between the fierce expression on Yukhei’s face to Yukhei’s warm palm still splayed over his thigh. He looks back up at Yukhei. “What are you doing?” he asks. He brings another rice cake to his lips. “Okay, tell me honestly…”

Yukhei raises an eyebrow.

“Are you doing all of this to get into my pants?” Mark decides that he has to be direct. He hopes that Yukhei will give it to him straight, too.

Yukhei seems surprised by this as he schools his expression into a more neutral one. “No,” he replies after a few seconds. He sets his cup of _ddeokbokki_ to a side, all the while still keeping his hand on Mark’s thigh in place. “Why do you think so?”

Mark shakes his head, stabbing an angry looking rice cake with his toothpick. “I don’t,” he lies. “I just thought I’d ask.” He lips throb and sting slightly from how spicy the rice cakes are but he can’t help but continue shovelling piece after piece into his mouth because it’s _that good_. He runs his tongue across his lower lip before bringing the rice cake up to eat it.

Only the rice cake doesn’t reach his lips.

Yukhei leans over and swipes the rice cake just before it touches Mark’s lips, and he looks incredibly pleased with himself as he smirks at Mark and chews. He doesn’t even bother with leaning back so Mark’s entire field of vision is consumed by the smug expression on his face.

“Excuse me?” Mark blurts out. He wants to be more annoyed by this but a sick part of him is actually entertained.

No one’s ever challenged him quite like this and it’s becoming interesting to see how far they can push each other.

Is Yukhei irritating? Is he bothersome? Yes and yes, but why is he also—

Mark stops himself before he can continue that thought.

“Feed me another,” Yukhei says, leaning back only slightly so Mark can have better access to his serving of _ddeokbokki_. He still looks very satisfied with himself as he chews slowly.

“Um…” Mark drawls out dumbly as he watches as Yukhei swipes his tongue out to wet his lips.

“They’re kind of spicy, huh?”

“Can we get some distance between us?” Mark grits from between his teeth. He tries to move away from Yukhei but he can’t seem to be able to move at all. There’s no extra space on the bench next to him, so the only logical way he’d be able to escape is on foot.

That question only further spurs Yukhei on as he leans in closer, his free hand coming up to cup the underside of Mark’s jaw. He runs a thumb along Mark’s lower lip, all the while only smiling to himself. “The spiciness kind of hits you just right here, doesn’t it?” Yukhei asks.

Once entranced, Mark can’t really look away. It’s stupid how he gets reduced to putty in Yukhei’s hands whenever their faces are just inches apart. There has to be some sort of antidote to cure of him whatever this sickness is. “Yukhei,” Mark grits from between his teeth, trying his best to sound like he’s in control of himself.

He’s not. Not really.

It doesn’t really matter when Yukhei doesn’t listen to him anyway.

Yukhei leans forward and presses their lips together and suddenly Mark becomes hyperaware of the sensation that Yukhei was talking about earlier. The spiciness really is concentrated mostly around his lower lip. It’s evident in the way the pressure from the kiss makes the skin on his lips ache just slightly—not enough for it to hurt but enough for the force to make a statement.

Mark doesn’t know what to do with his hands because he has a useless half-empty cup of _ddeokbokki_ in them.

Yukhei handles it for him. He loosens his grip on Mark’s face and swiftly plucks the cup from Mark’s hands, setting it down right next to his abandoned serving of food. All without breaking contact once.

The confusion only gets amplified once Mark’s hands are free. All he knows is that he’s kissing Yukhei back, and before he can make a decision for himself he finds that he has his fingers splayed across the torso of Yukhei’s shirt.

Yukhei’s lips melt into his like velvet. A brief tingle runs down his spine every time Yukhei increases the intensity and it’s not the most unpleasant thing in the world.

“And you said you wanted some distance,” Yukhei comments against Mark’s lips as Mark pants lowly against him. He has one hand in Mark’s hair and the other one still on Mark’s thigh. The hand on Mark’s thigh squeezes harshly.

Mark holds back the yelp of surprise that threatens to escape his throat. “It’s spicy,” Mark murmurs, realising that the stinging of the peppers on his lips is steadily building up.

Yukhei chuckles lowly and his large hand continues to massage Mark’s thigh. “Is it?” Yukhei’s hands are wild as all hell and he can’t seem to keep them to himself.

“Yukhei,” Mark tries yet again to be stern. This time he physically extracts Yukhei’s hand from his thigh. “Hands off.”

“What did I say about you calling me by my name?”

Mark shrugs, trying to even his breathing before he comes up with a snarky comeback. “Stop,” Mark manages instead, trying to figure out the mess of emotions inside his head. “I can’t do this with you.”

That’s an unexpanded statement of truth. There’s undoubtedly _something_ here, whether it’s just the thrill of doing something forbidden or if it’s some inexplicable form of attraction—magnetism, maybe—between the two of them. Mark doesn’t want to dig too much beneath the surface of all of this. It’ll only reveal layers on layers of regret and he’s not ready to face any of it.

There’s a reason why he considered giving up on this task.

He doesn’t think he’s much stronger than his opponent, especially when their weaknesses seem to be each other.

Thankfully, Yukhei relents. “Ask again nicely,” he says, leaning back with a smirk. “I respect you, so I’ll do as you say. Now ask again nicely.”

This is a power move. Mark shakes his head. He’s not in the right state of mind to contemplate defence strategies right now. “Let’s go home, boss.”

Yukhei shrugs, but he listens.

 

He doesn’t listen for long, though.

When Yukhei stops the car right outside Mark’s apartment complex, he taps his fingers against the steering wheel as he considers Mark from his seat. He looks like he’s expecting something.

Mark only awkwardly looks back at him. “What?” he asks, slightly peeved that Yukhei won’t be direct and spit it out.

“Nothing.”

Mark narrows his eyes at him.

“I can’t promise to keep my hands to myself if you continue looking at me like that.”

Mark raises an eyebrow. “Tell me,” he starts, one hand already on the door handle so he can make a speedy escape if things go awry. “Do you play with everyone like this?”

Yukhei barks out a laugh, clearly entertained. “No,” he replies, amused. As he says this, he leans forward and tangles his fingers into Mark’s hair, his large eyes glimmering as he brings their faces closer together. “It’s just you.”

Mark focuses on breathing out through his nose without breaking eye contact. “Why?”

Yukhei doesn’t give him a definite answer. He releases his grip on Mark’s hair and smoothes it out, setting the stray strands back into place. “I thought you wanted to get out?” he asks, his line of sight moving to settle on Mark’s fingers against the handle of the passenger’s side of the car. “Or do you want to stay here a little longer?”

Mark immediately shakes his head. “I’ll get going,” he hurriedly replies, opening the door and stepping out.

“That’s it? No ‘thanks for the date’ or ‘see you tomorrow’?”

Mark halts his action of slamming the door closed mid-way. “You’re welcome,” he opts to say, trying his best to ignore the rhythmic thrumming of his heart against his ribcage. “I usually charge for my company.”

Yukhei scoffs. “I doubt you’d be able to charge much.”

Mark rolls his eyes as he slams the door loudly as a retort, but he doesn’t miss the way Yukhei’s grin only grows wider when he sticks his tongue out at him and waves him away.

 

* * *

 

Mark and Yukhei continue as they are after that. The date—for a lack of a better term—doesn’t do much to help Mark decipher what exactly is going on between them because things just continue to be muddled as they are.

Yukhei, for his part, is mostly professional in the office. He doesn’t push any boundaries when there are other people around, save for his diehard habit of keeping his cigarettes in Mark’s pants.

Mark tries to soldier on. At this point of his task he’s sure that he’s broken multiple rules and went against several of his life principles. He doesn’t meddle with the enemy, definitely not in this way. Granted that this is his first (and hopefully his last) undercover mission, he’ll jot it down as a rookie’s mistake. He just doesn’t have enough experience to be a cold-blooded animal yet.

Especially not when he notices that there’s a softer curve to the perpetual smirk that’s plastered onto Yukhei’s face whenever they meet eyes. It qualifies as something of a smile now, and if Mark were to let himself test the limits he’d even call it a _fond_ smile.

The smile on Yukhei’s face doesn’t look like the ones he gives the other members of Vision. No, it’s not the wide toothy grin that he sometimes sports whenever Kunhang presumably cracks a joke in Cantonese. It’s not even like the haughty laugh that he sometimes gives whenever Sicheng gives him a particularly entertaining update. It’s more of a slight stretch of the edges of his lips, sometimes with two of his incisors peeking through just a little bit.

Mark’s found himself categorising it as adorable once or twice, but he’s always chalked it down to some kind of hormonal imbalance within himself.

He just hasn’t dated anyone in a while.

Mark sighs. It’s a long day today at the office and Yukhei insisted that he stay back with him. Mark could only watch sadly as each of the guys bid him goodbye.

Yangyang is particularly curious over why Mark is the chosen candidate to keep Yukhei company. He wouldn’t stop pestering Mark for an answer up until the very moment that Kun appears to drag him away for a meeting with a hotel tycoon at a nearby restaurant. “Why you?” Yangyang shouts as Kun physically drags him out the sliding doors. “Why you?”

Mark doesn’t bother to answer.

Chenle, however, looks smug. “How much do you get in employee benefits?” he asks as he slides his packet of smokes into his breast pocket. “No, actually, don’t answer that. I meant _what_ do you get paid in employee benefits?”

Mark sinks further into his office chair, promptly wheeling himself away from Chenle’s God forsaken desk.

“Do you even get paid anymore? Or do you just have unlimited access to the company card?”

Mark snorts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps. “Stop being nosey and leave. You’re the last one here.”

Dejun and Sicheng have long left on a trip to Thailand to discuss some matters with Ten. Mark hasn’t met Ten yet, but the way Kunhang talks about him makes him sound like an absolute riot. Mark wonders if they’ll ever get the chance to meet.

Chenle doesn’t immediately motion to leave, instead loitering about as he tries to look for something around the office. He opens every other unlocked drawer and eventually finds whatever he’s looking for in Kunhang’s drawer. “Renjun told me to steal Sicheng _gē_ ’s flask for him,” he says simply, happily slipping the small metal flask into his pocket.

Renjun. Mark shakes his head. He hasn’t thought about Renjun in a while. “Can you… can you tell me more about Renjun?” Mark asks.

Chenle seems surprised to hear that question coming from Mark. “Why? Are you interested in him?” He frantically looks towards the glass panels of Yukhei’s office, his expression conveying every bit of worry he feels. “But Xuxi _gē_ —”

Mark sighs loudly. “No!” he argues, stopping Chenle mid-rant. “I’m just curious. I don’t know much about Renjun, that’s all.”

Chenle isn’t placated by that but he doesn’t say any more. “Well… Renjun… he’s a rich kid.”

“Aren’t you all?”

“Touché,” Chenle replies. “Renjun is different, though. He… He’s taken over the responsibilities of being the head of his family completely. I’m surprised that he came back here because his family business is all set up in Beijing. But he doesn’t want to talk about it, so I’m guessing he gave it up or something.”

Mark blinks slowly as he processes this information. Renjun… the head of his family? That’s unheard of even in the modern world. Family businesses don’t just get handed down to the heir at such a young age.

“If you’re curious,” Chenle finally takes steps towards the exit of the office floor. “His dad passed a few years ago. That’s why he’s the head of the Huang family now.”

Chenle leaves without saying a formal goodbye and Mark can only gape at the receding view of his back as he disappears into one of the lifts. The office suddenly feels so empty.

Mark has a lot of unanswered questions regarding Renjun but this isn’t his main objective. His gaze flits towards where he can see Yukhei leaning back in his office chair with his feet propped up onto his desk. His leather shoes are shining under the bright lights of his private office despite the muted view of the scenery behind him.

Mark rests his chin in his palm as he continues watching Yukhei. It’s surprisingly entertaining for him to see the way Yukhei works by himself. There are little details he can appreciate from afar that he wouldn’t be able to notice when they’re near.

Yukhei loosens his tie as he frowns at the papers before him, but his senses are sharper than Mark expects and he consciously looks up to meet Mark’s eyes across the glass panels.

Mark sits up abruptly, embarrassed that he was caught staring.

Yukhei doesn’t seem to mind and instead cracks a smile before quirking a finger in Mark’s direction, telling him to come into his room.

Mark is a glutton for punishment without even realising it.

“I told you that you can take a picture of me instead of staring,” Yukhei says as Mark begrudgingly enters his room. His fingers are tapping gently against the surface of his desk and there’s a muffled sound that comes from the telephone right next to him.

Mark bites back his retort when he realises that Yukhei is on a call.

“Who are you talking to?” The caller asks in Mandarin. He’s on loudspeaker.

“No one,” Yukhei replies. “Anyway, you can continue talking.”

“Why are you speaking to me in Korean?”

Yukhei purses his lips. “Practice,” he says stiffly. “I don’t want your Korean to get rusty, Injun.”

Injun. Renjun is on the other line of the call. Mark tries not to let his surprise show on his face. He makes a gesture asking if he should leave the room, but Yukhei shakes his head silently and continues looking at him. Eventually, Mark opts for awkwardly sitting on the chair opposite Yukhei’s desk as he waits. What for, he doesn’t know.

“I know it wasn’t easy for you, Renjun,” Yukhei starts gently. He sounds a lot softer in the confines of this space. “It can’t be easy for you. You never asked for any of this.”

Renjun sighs from the other line. “It’s been years but I still can’t believe this is what my father left me…” he muses, a dry chuckle coming from his end. “I tried to be who everyone wanted me to be for the past few years but it just wasn’t me. Now my grandad’s calling and I don’t want to pick up because I feel like the trashiest piece of shit in the world. I don’t want to forsake the family or whatever but—fuck, the business is just not me.”

Renjun has a very colourful Korean vocabulary for someone who hasn’t been using the language in a while.

“Filial piety is a difficult thing to judge,” Yukhei consoles him. “Which is why I do what I do.”

There’s a moment of silence that passes between the two of them before Renjun chuckles. “Your decisions aren’t filial whatsoever. You sabotage your father’s underground empire in the open and you call that filial?”

“I don’t sabotage him.”

“You’re running his business to the ground! How many drug deals have you let go bust on purpose? You literally reject every job offer that you’re given. And yet Uncle Wong still thinks that you’ll come around some day?” Renjun laughs. “Tough shit. It’s a wonder how Vision isn’t buried six feet under yet with the way you operate.”

“There’s no need to be rude,” Yukhei says, but he’s shaking his head with a faint hint of a smile on his face. “That’s why I said filial piety is complicated. You judge it based on your standards and I’ll judge it based on mine. I think I’m being filial by cutting down on my dad’s… _deeds_. It’s not like you don’t think the same way.”

Mark tries to keep up with the conversation but he’s at a loss. Even though the two foreign men are communicating in his native language, he can’t seem to understand just what they’re talking about. Sabotage? Running Vision to the ground? Letting deals go bust? Filial piety? Mark’s drawing a blank at just what they’re discussing.

Because if what he’s getting from this call is right… Yukhei isn’t doing what his father is asking of him. He’s not participating in the illegal business offers. He’s _declining_ them and even _ruining_ them.

How does that even make any sense?

“I’m not going back to China,” Renjun says with finality. “My grandad can whine as much as he wants but I wasn’t born into the mafia. Fuck, my dad didn’t want me to have anything to do with the business. That’s why he sent me all the way here.”

“You’ve suffered a lot for the past few years, Jun,” Yukhei nods to himself as he speaks. “The decision is in your hands. You know I support you.”

“Would you say that Dream is a legitimate business?”

Yukhei guffaws. “Probably. If you run it right after this, it’s a legitimate business.”

Renjun exhales softly. “Anyway, I’ll go give my grandad a call now to get my daily earful,” he laments. “Do you have any plans for the evening, _gē_?”

“Maybe,” Yukhei replies, his gaze fixated straight at Mark, making Mark squirm in his seat slightly.

“You should drop by Dream more often,” Renjun suggests. “I need the income.”

This makes Yukhei laugh once again, and they bicker back and forth in Mandarin after that before Renjun finally hangs up, leaving the room in a state of relative silence. Yukhei studies Mark’s face as he tilts his head to a side. He loosens his tie completely now and throws it onto his desk haphazardly.

Mark doesn’t know whether he’s allowed to speak up about what he’s heard. Can he clarify things? Did Yukhei let him listen in on purpose? What’s happening?

“You seem like you’ve got a lot of questions in your head,” Yukhei states as he shrugs off his blazer. He’s left in a white button-up. He unbuttons the top two buttons under his collar. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Mark doesn’t even know where to begin. “Why?” Mark finally chokes out, the vagueness of his own question catching himself off guard as well.

“What do you mean by ‘Why?’” Yukhei questions back. “Why do I do the things I do or why does Renjun do the things he does?”

“Both,” Mark hurriedly responds. It’s as if he’s afraid that Yukhei will change his mind about giving him proper answers. “Why… Did I interpret things correctly?”

“It depends on your interpretation.”

Mark swallows audibly. “You… you don’t dabble in the underground deals,” Mark tries to word his statement properly. “You’re not actually involved in any mafia shit.” _That’s why it’s so difficult to get any evidence against you_.

“Not entirely accurate,” Yukhei replies. “But somewhat correct. You’ve been working for me for months and yet you didn’t know this entire time?”

“I assumed—” Mark cuts himself off before he has a slip of the tongue. He shakes his head and tries to rephrase. “My job scope isn’t that wide. I just do what you tell me to and I’ve never been let in on any of the deals Vision makes with anyone.”

Yukhei nods. “That’s true. But you catch on surprisingly slowly.”

Mark tries not to let that get to him. “And Renjun… his grandfather is giving him a lot of pressure?”

“Old man Huang is relentless. After Renjun’s dad passed he made Renjun shoulder the entirety of Huang Corporation with him as chairman. It was a whole mess,” Yukhei comments. “Nobody wanted a fresh piece of meat as CEO and Renjun didn’t know jack shit about running a dual company. He just did everything according to his grandad’s counsel until he couldn’t take it anymore.”

“That’s fucked up.”

Yukhei shrugs. “We’re kind of on the same boat,” he remarks. “Except we’re handling it differently. I’m choosing to take my life into my own hands and to right any wrongs.”

It sounds almost admirable when Yukhei puts it in that way. Yukhei’s making the conscious decision to go against his father’s wishes just so he can do the right thing. Or what he thinks is the right thing, at least. But is this the right way to tackle this predicament?

Mark can’t say for sure. He’s never been in his shoes.

“You must be thinking… why doesn’t he just not take part?” Yukhei says this bitterly to himself. He picks up one of his expensive ink pens and twirls it around in one hand. “I’ve thought about it. But I can’t bring myself to cut ties with my father like that.”

“Your relationship with your father…” Mark is aware that he’s probably overstepping his boundaries by asking something like that, but he’s genuinely concerned. It seems like Yukhei is content with pretending to follow in his father’s footsteps just to maintain their good relationship, or whatever their relationship is like.

It doesn’t seem like lies and deceit make for very healthy father-son relations.

Mark’s own relationship with his father wasn’t any better, though. He doesn’t want to rip open that old wound now that it’s scarred over, but when he thinks of his father—there aren’t many fond memories worthy of revisiting anymore. Maybe it’s his own childishness that’s holding him back from thinking of his father in a better light now that he’s passed on.

Mark just doesn’t like thinking about him, period.

“My dad is all I have,” Yukhei quietly admits. There’s an unsaid sense of vulnerability to his words. It’s like he’s never really said these words in this manner before. “After my mother left… well, it’s just been my dad and I. He’s all I have now.”

Mark doesn’t know if it’s appropriate for him to show Yukhei any gesture of comfort right now. The atmosphere is tense, but not in an uncomfortable way. It just feels like they’re baring their souls to each other for the first time—beneath all the pretension and the characters that they have to play in daily life.

Yukhei isn’t the ruthless mafia boss that everyone knows him as. He’s a young man struggling to do the right thing despite some of his choices causing a blur in his moral compass. He’s not always confident. He has this side of him, too. The side that tries to please everyone to the best of his ability when he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is enough.

“Do you miss her?” Mark speaks up. It’s a stupid question because of course Yukhei misses her. Hell, even Mark misses his deadbeat father sometimes. “I mean… I lost my father when I was younger too, and it wasn’t easy. It still isn’t easy.”

Yukhei seems to contemplate this for a moment before the edges of his lips crack into a weak smile. “That’s different. Your father left the face of the earth. My mother made a conscious decision to leave me behind,” he explains. That little detail is obviously very important to him. “I don’t think about her as much as I used to anymore. I barely even remember what she looked like. I only have one parent.”

Mark nods, noting the connotations behind Yukhei’s words. “Is that why… is that why you’re so obedient with your dad?”

A humourless laugh escapes from Yukhei’s lips. “If you think sabotaging one of his companies is obedient then yes,” he replies. “I don’t agree with what he does but I’ll always be on his side.”

All in all, Yukhei is fighting his own battle. Vision is merely a pawn in the bigger scheme of things if Mr. Wong is willing to let Yukhei continue destroying his plans. _Yukhei_ is merely a pawn.

Mark didn’t think that he’d ever feel sorry for Yukhei, but he does. He does right now.

“You’re not a bad person,” Mark says. He doesn’t know why he says it, but he thinks that Yukhei might want to hear it. “Despite everything… your intentions… You have good intentions.” Mark reaches across the table to steady Yukhei’s hand.

The pen Yukhei was holding onto immediately falls onto the surface with a clang as Mark grips his fingers.

“You are not like your father.”

Yukhei looks up to meet Mark’s eyes and for once, there’s a sense of searching in his gaze. He looks like he doesn’t know what Mark is thinking and he’s not sure of how he should continue on. “Come here,” he instructs, but it’s not in a stern manner.

“Why?”

“I want a hug.”

Mark is taken aback, to say the least. But he does as he’s told anyway because it’s not every day that a hotshot mafia boss will ask for basic human contact. From him, nonetheless. As he circles the table to approach Yukhei, Yukhei pushes his chair back from the desk.

This is weird.

Is Mark really going to hug Yukhei right now? He didn’t think things through before this whole scenario started playing itself out in a very awkward way.

On the contrary to Mark’s expectations, Yukhei spreads his legs slightly and pats his thighs.

Mark stops before him and gapes. “Um, what?”

Yukhei pats his thighs once more. “Choose one,” he says simply, blinking his large eyes up at Mark. “My lap has received glowing testimonials. You won’t regret it.”

Mark sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel a migraine building up in the area around his temples. Interacting with Yukhei is a whirlwind of emotions and he’s always in for a surprise whenever he lets himself go just that once. “Normal people hug standing up.”

“I’m not a normal person.”

Mark can’t deny that he’s not completely repulsed by the idea of sitting on Yukhei’s lap, but that toes the line of giving himself too much of a luxury while on the job. “Are you for real?” he asks instead, hoping that Yukhei will let it go so Mark can keep his work ethic.

“Hold out your hand.”

Mark instinctively does as he’s told and he’s pulled down into Yukhei’s lap in the next second. “What the f—”

“Watch it, potty mouth,” Yukhei states flatly. He’s far too close. His face is literally right next to Mark’s and he’s speaking directly into Mark’s ear.

In the rush to stable himself Mark had thrown his arms around Yukhei’s shoulders so they’re in something of a hugging position at the moment. Not entirely, but somewhat. He squeezes Yukhei’s shoulders briefly before leaning back to put some distance between them. “Okay, we’ve hugged. Can I go now?”

“You’re asking me as if I have you chained onto me,” Yukhei points out. “When you’re the one who’s happily perched on my lap without me having to hold you down.”

Mark flushes as he looks down, realising that he _is_ sitting in Yukhei’s lap on his own accord because Yukhei’s hands are nowhere near him. “Okay, then I’ll—” Mark tries to get up, but this time Yukhei presses him down by the thighs. “I’ll… stay here.”

Yukhei laughs to himself. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really cute?” he inquires, smiling to himself. “Like, surprisingly cute.”

If a person could spontaneously combust from how embarrassed they are, Mark would be on fire right now. “What?” he exclaims. “Don’t talk like that.”

Yukhei continues chuckling. He gently reaches over to tilt Mark’s chin up with his fingers and he rests his thumb under Mark’s lips. “You’re adorable,” he says, making the heat in Mark’s cheeks intensify tenfold. “I like that you don’t know that about yourself.”

Mark struggles weakly in Yukhei’s hold. “Come on… don’t play like that.”

“I want to kiss you.”

Mark stops moving and stares at Yukhei eye-to-eye. “Huh?” he asks, his eyes widening. “What’d you say?”

“I want to kiss you,” Yukhei repeats.

“You’ve never asked before,” Mark quietly says to himself.

“I’m not asking now.”

Mark huffs out a breath. “Then ask now,” Mark retorts, narrowing his eyes at Yukhei annoyedly. “It’s never too late to start asking.”

“You’ll say no if I ask.”

Mark gulps. He feels like there’s a lump lodged in his throat. He wishes there was, because his next argument is going to make him wish that he never said anything. “What if I don’t?” he asks. “What if I say yes?”

This makes Yukhei smirk as his tilts Mark’s face closer to him by the chin. “Fine,” he says, his lips mere centimetres away from Mark’s lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Mark doesn’t think he’s brave enough to give a verbal response, so he takes the situation by the reins and he presses forward.

Yukhei’s lips are plush against his own and their lips fit together seamlessly. Yukhei’s fingers around his chin move to cup the side of his face instead, allowing them to come even closer together.

Although he finds himself slightly crazy—it’s definitely the hormones—Mark lets his arms circle around Yukhei’s neck to maintain his own balance.

Their bodies are warm pressed against each other and Mark takes the opportunity to snake his fingers onto the back of Yukhei’s head to grab a tuft of hair. When he tugs at it lightly, a low moan spills out of Yukhei’s mouth into his own and he takes the opportunity to lick into Yukhei’s mouth, tasting the bitterness of his cigarettes and the caffeine against his tongue.

Yukhei’s palm radiates a heat that makes Mark wonder if he’s this warm all over. As they continue to kiss, Mark finds things getting sloppier on his end as he trails one of his hands down Yukhei’s skin to place it against his chest.

How convenient that Yukhei didn’t have all his buttons closed.

Mark’s question is answered. Yukhei is warm.

Yukhei grazes Mark’s lower lip with his teeth when he pulls away slightly, chuckling lightly to himself when Mark pants loudly against his face.

Mark let himself have this one luxury but it doesn’t mean that what he’s doing is right. He needs to put a stop to this. “Let’s stop,” Mark breathes out, trying his best to compose himself. “I can’t… I’m not supposed to do this with you.” He cracks his eyes open slowly to see Yukhei staring back at him, bored.

Yukhei’s lips are red and plump. He sticks his tongue out to run it against his lips. “Why?” he asks, lazily carding his fingers through Mark’s hair now.

Mark opens his mouth to give a proper answer but he draws a blank with what to say. “Because I’m a fucking cop” doesn’t sound like a very tactful thing to say when he’s sitting unarmed in a mafia overlord’s lap. “Because I’m afraid of commitment” is also a very presumptuous thing to say when there hasn’t been any inclination that Yukhei wants anything serious with him.

“Is it ’cause you’re a detective?”

Mark immediately freezes, his eyes threatening to fall out of their sockets.

Yukhei looks complacent as he says those words like it doesn’t matter to him at all. Like the fact that Mark’s an undercover agent sent to break his organisation from the inside means practically nothing to him.

There’s no point in denying it when Yukhei is that sure about his intel. “You… you knew about that?” Mark questions instead. “For how long?”

Yukhei shakes his head as he rolls his eyes. His hair is slightly messy from where Mark was pulling at it earlier. “We all knew from the start,” he replies, his tone neutral. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is whether you remember—”

Mark immediately interrupts him by standing up abruptly, his legs shaky as he steps backwards. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now,” he blurts out, his mouth suddenly dry. “I-I need to go.”

Yukhei opens his mouth to say something but Mark doesn’t give him the chance to speak.

Mark sprints out of the office as he tries to gather his thoughts, realising that he fucked up this operation from the beginning. He doesn’t look back to check if Yukhei follows him.

Yukhei doesn’t.

Mark makes it out of the building in record time, feeling more like an idiot than he ever has in his whole life. A million questions are swimming in his head as he tries to make sense of his thoughts and everything that’s happened to him in Vision thus far.

He’s a terrible detective.

Mark, for once in his life, truly doesn’t know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sadly, i am writing this as i go so i can’t promise when the next (and very likely the final) chapter will be posted! hopefully this tides everyone over for a while… thank you for the love that you’ve given this fic so far and i hope you continue to like it!
> 
> twt: [@lucashaeyadwae](http://twitter.com/lucashaeyadwae) // [@heibighead](http://twitter.com/heibighead)

**Author's Note:**

> not much to be said here other than send me all your prayers so this gets done before i start another monster :^)  
> hope you all enjoyed it so far! there’s quite a bit in store for this one.
> 
> twt: [@lucashaeyadwae](http://twitter.com/lucashaeyadwae)


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